


Upton Manners

by pi_meson



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Past Abuse, Period-Typical Racism, Sexual Content, Slavery, ghost - Freeform, manor house au, mild creepiness, victim self blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 130,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pi_meson/pseuds/pi_meson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manor House AU</p><p>Sir Carlos has a lot to deal with. A developing but hidden relationship with his valet, a growing crush on his cook, and the realisation that although he is the lord of the manor, he is not in charge.</p><p>No, he has Ortiz the butler, Cardinal the housekeeper and a small army of angelic maids and footmen to make sure he doesn't upset the order of things.</p><p>What happens when he finds out that his cook has been hiding something, or someone, from him? And what possibilities unfold when they each accept their family for what it is, and what it might become?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Above and Below

**Author's Note:**

> I never made it through a whole episode of Downton Abbey but Gosford Park and The Remains of the Day are both great. Go read or watch them.
> 
> I'm setting this around 1850ish with a few liberties regarding indoor plumbing.
> 
> Rated E for chapter 8 and beyond
> 
> The past abuse and victim self-blame warnings are for chapters 19 & 20
> 
> Ch23 warning for alcohol abuse
> 
> Avoid Ch31/32 if you want to skip Kevin running a slave ship

Ortiz spoke to Erika with that calm, quiet voice that instilled a deep desire not to do whatever it was they did wrong again. Cardinal watched from a doorway as the tall, willowy footman shuffled their feet and blinked their eyes. Soon the butler turned away and Erika scurried off to a narrow, hidden door under the grand staircase, and vanished. Cardinal smiled.  
"Josie... do beg my pardon, _Ortiz,_ I have been meaning to catch a word with you about... you know..."  
Josie smiled and sighed. "I know, Dana, I know. I will ask the master tonight after dinner when he is in a good mood."

Below-stairs in the kitchen, Cook was yelling at the enormous range cooker again. Sometimes it seemed like the heat under it lit out of respect for his fiery temper. Oven warming, Cook gathered ingredients from the cool pantry. Tonight's dinner had to be a showcase, the master had important guests. He looked up when the butler poked a head around the door.

"Ugh, Josie, what now? Not more changes. I thought you and the master had settled on a menu and a head count."  
Josie smiled, keeping away from the clean surfaces. "Two more. Mister Vansten is coming over with his aide, I need to confirm whether his aide will be at the big table or not but he will need to eat whether it is with us or with them."  
Cook rolled his eyes. Ortiz laughed.  
"Come on Earl, make the master, and your old dad, proud of you."

Upstairs, Sir Carlos Scientist blinked and pulled the blankets over his head against the sudden encroachment of pale sunlight. His valet watched as the master retreated into warm darkness, leaving only a cloud of dark curls on the pillow as evidence of his presence. The valet approached the side of the bed, bit his lower lip and reached out a nervous hand. An image flashed through the valet's mind, unsettling him.  
_...lift the blanket and the sheet and crawl under, touch his face and..._  
Sir Carlos responded to a gentle shake of his shoulder. His face emerged, eyes screwed shut and mouth distorted by a yawn. The valet watched and smiled as consciousness returned.  
"Good morning sir. Your bath is ready and I have your coffee."  
"Mmm. Did you make it yourself?"  
"Of course sir!” The valet’s voice raised a little from his natural baritone. “I always make your coffee to my own recipe. Every morning! I get up early to hammer the beans myself and—“  
Sir Carlos sat up in bed, the covers falling from his shoulders and revealing the dark skin of his chest covered with silky black hair. The valet swallowed and looked away. Sir Carlos laughed.  
“Thank you Palmer. You look after me so well. I am sure I don't deserve you.”  
Carlos yawned again and took a small china cup from Palmer's hand. He sipped and smiled.  
"Mmm, you make excellent coffee. I should analyse it in my laboratory." Carlos briefly met his valet's gaze. "See if I can discover your secret." 

Palmer turned away to hide his burning cheeks, busying himself with the outfit he had picked out for his master to wear for what little remained of the morning. He heard the bed creak as Sir Carlos stood and stretched. Without looking, Palmer held up his master's robe, feeling the fabric tighten and tug as one arm then the other found the sleeves. Palmer looked up at last.  
"Can I get you more coffee, sir?  
"Thank you, Palmer. I will bathe then dress and go to my lab for a few hours. I am expecting visitors later but I will need you as soon as you have finished doing whatever it is that you do."  
Cecil smiled.

Sir Carlos returned from his bath to find his room neat and his clothes laid out. He noticed with the usual pang that Palmer was absent. He considered his options. Wait until his valet returned. Dress himself. Wait for a few minutes then ring for Palmer to attend him. He decided on the second option as the least likely to make him look like an idiot and the least likely to get Palmer into trouble with Ortiz. He dropped his robe on the floor and picked up the nearest garment. 

Palmer took his master's laundry to the hamper on the backstair landing and returned, slipping into Sir Carlos's chamber as silently as he could. His master perched on the edge of the bed, partially dressed. Palmer tutted and picked up the discarded robe, flicking it out and hanging it on a clothes hanger. Sir Carlos looked at him.  
"Sorry, I am untidy. It must get on your nerves to be picking up after me."  
Palmer grinned. "Not at all, sir. Oh!" Palmer noticed the way his master's buttons were fastened out of step, making his collar stick up on one side. "Permit me?" He pointed. Sir Carlos nodded.  
The valet approached and Sir Carlos stood to allow Palmer to unfasten his shirt buttons. Palmer tutted again.  
"Ugh what have I done wrong this time?" Sir Carlos rolled his eyes. Palmer chided his master.  
"You will catch cold without a vest." 

Palmer eased the flannel shirt from his master's shoulders and shook it so that it slipped down his arms. Sir Carlos stood perfectly still, watching his valet. Palmer stared at the star shaped beige and brown scars in his master's chest, a little above his stomach and off-centre.  
Palmer did not blink, did not move his eyes from those marks.  
"I know I have seen those before, sir, but every time I think of what might have happened. To you. To us all. To... me."  
Sir Carlos smiled and looked down at where Palmer's fingers stopped an inch from his injury.  
"I have not told you this. I have not told a soul. But that day, after my accident, all I could think about was how I had been here for a year and made so little of my life. I hid in my lab, I saw so many threats to my way of life, I didn't dare... I did not dare think..." Carlos swallowed. "I rejected so much as malign, but I see now."  
Palmer raised his eyes to study his master's face. Sir Carlos sat on the edge of his bed again. eyes downcast. Palmer swallowed, tongue suddenly dry in his mouth.  
"Oh?"  
Sir Carlos closed his eyes and took a deep breath, blowing it out through his nose.  
"After I got hurt, as I lay on the floor of the stables, all I could think was that I wanted to see you."

Palmer froze. Had he heard right? Sir Carlos patted the bed beside him and Palmer sat, stomach churning and head buzzing. They remained absolutely still for a full minute before Palmer laid his head on his master's shoulder, and Sir Carlos risked stroking his valet's knee.

They did not worry about how long they sat. Eventually Palmer spoke.  
"I have to go back to work, sir. You have guests later and I want you to look your best."  
Sir Carlos rested his cheek against his Valet's hair.  
"If I ask you to call me Carlos, without the sir, may I address you as Cecil instead of Palmer? Only in private." Carlos squeezed Palmer's knee gently. "I would not want you to lose status in the house because of the way I speak to you. Ortiz explained all the rules the day I arrived."  
Palmer giggled, perhaps with nerves.  
"I remember, Carlos, you held a meeting."  
"Cecil."  
"Carlos, Carlos, Carlos the Scientist. I like that."  
Carlos laughed.  
"Cecil with the lovely voice."

Cecil helped Carlos into his clothing and promised to attend him in his laboratory as soon as possible. It was a task Cecil enjoyed, although not strictly part of the job of a valet. He assisted, fetching and holding equipment, recording in neat script the figures Carlos read to him. The work was secondary, what Cecil looked forward to most was spending time with Carlos in the laboratory that nobody else was allowed to enter.

In the meantime, Cecil had below-stairs work to do. He headed down the back staircase to the laundry, thinking about sparkling glassware and humming electricals, and especially about a dark scientist in a snow white lab-coat. He left instructions with Erika for the proper care of the Master's clothing then went to the kitchen.

"Earl! Earl...Oh there you are!" Cecil grinned at the Cook.  
Earl pointed a wooden spoon at Cecil.  
"You going to tell me about perfect hair and strong jaw again? I have work to do, you know."  
"No!" Cecil pouted. "Well yes, but also I wanted to tell you that Ca... Sir Carlos will want lunch on a tray in his laboratory today. He refused breakfast so don't skimp on the wheat and wheat by-products."  
Earl laughed. "Fine. I will send Erika with a tray _for two_ at half-twelve." Earl leaned close to his friend. "I envy you, you get to spend all that time alone with the master. I bet he has no idea I exist."

Cecil frowned and scratched his head.  
"You think that? Sir Carlos always says nice things about his meals."  
Earl sighed. "He says them to you, or to Ortiz."  
"Oh." Cecil frowned again. "Hmm..."  
Earl put down his implement and turned to face Cecil.  
"What."  
Cecil looked out of the window.  
"You know you sometimes go work in your herb garden?"  
"Yes I do, " Earl frowned. "So?"  
"And," Cecil pointed, "it is out there below our master's laboratory windows?"  
Earl frowned, "Ye-e-es?"  
Cecil grinned. "So if you knew when the master was likely to be staring out of his laboratory windows, pondering the nature of... nature, would you not like to give him something, um, _natural_ upon which to feast his eyes?"  
Earl grinned.  
"You conniving little snake... come here."  
Cecil leaned forward, looked left then right, and let Earl plant a light kiss on his cheek. Earl shook his head.  
"Ceece, I can't risk my position here. I have my dad's welfare to consider and... you know... as well as my own. I can't afford to lose my job."  
Cecil smirked. "I'm not suggesting you do anything that you would not normally do as part of your job. If you happened to be shirtless in your herb garden at, ooh, say, half-two give or take..."  
"Ceece, get out of my clean kitchen with your filthy mind."

Palmer tapped on the heavy oak door of the laboratory and pushed it open, but Cecil closed it. Carlos looked up and grinned.  
"Pal... Cecil! It is so good to see you. Cook sent up a tray. Did you organise that?"  
Cecil smiled and nodded. "I thought you'd be hungry."  
Carlos looked back at his work. "Yes, I am. Have you eaten already?" Cecil shook his head. Carlos's face lit up. "Join me?"  
Cecil nodded, smiled openly and sat on the stool Carlos indicated.  
"I think it's mushrooms in some kind of sauce. Unusual." Carlos speared a fungus and it oozed red. "There's wine, but not much. Share?"  
Cecil laughed.  
"Cook thinks I should not drink on duty, sir."  
Carlos faltered. He stared at Cecil, mouth hanging open.  
"Oh! Um, I see. You are on duty. Fine. If I am keeping you from your work, please..."  
Cecil frowned and shook his head.  
"Oh! Oh my dear Carlos. I have offended you. I look forward to the hours that you allow me to spend in here with you and I am unhappy when your schedule and my duties conspire to keep me from joining you."  
Carlos sighed. "Please forgive my reaction. I find people difficult to read. You usually seem... uncomplicated."

Carlos reached a hand out and Cecil took it. Cecil stood and led Carlos to the window, Carlos's wine glass in his other hand. He took a sip and passed the glass back to Carlos.  
"Carlos? The cook whose skills you admire so much is outside in the herb garden."  
Carlos looked out of the window. "Oh?"  
Cecil pointed. Earl was indeed hard at work in the herb garden, shirt hanging from a nearby tree, sweat giving his pale skin a sheen that accentuated his black hair.  
"I am fortunate to have such hard working staff." Carlos continued to stare as Earl stood, stretched out backwards and looked up with eyes so blue they put the sky to shame, then got back to work.  
"Please, make sure Cook knows how much I appreciate his effort and his... skill."  
Cecil smiled. "I will pass that message on."

Carlos frowned as he watched the cook cut herbs. "Cecil, am I a bad master?"  
Cecil waited for elaboration. None came.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Huh," Carlos looked away, "I am not used to having people do things for me. Do I get it right? Being _Sir Carlos_?"  
Cecil grinned and laughed a little. "You are doing just fine, _sir."_  
Carlos laughed, leaned over and kissed Cecil once, gently.  
In the garden, Earl looked up and saw his master and his friend. He rolled his eyes, grabbed his shirt and retreated back to his sanctuary.

A few minutes later, Carlos frowned and called Cecil back to the window. Cecil looked out. The gardens were busy with footmen and housemaids, tall willowy figures, and they were searching for something. Earl could be heard, shouting something over and over, Cardinal holding him back by his arm and talking to him in her clear, calm voice. Cecil paled, feeling his stomach flutter uncomfortably and his limbs loosen. 

"Sir, I must leave you and, uh, attend to my duties. There is nothing for you to be alarmed about." He shrugged. "No more than usual at any rate."  
With that, the door slammed and Palmer was gone. Sir Carlos watched from the window as his valet ran outside, held tight to the cook, spoke a few words but listened to many more, stroked the pale, black-haired man's face and set off to join the throng of Erikas.

Sir Carlos waited, watching, for a few minutes more then left his lab, carrying his lunch tray to give him a good excuse for venturing below-stairs. The Butler and Housekeeper's office was vacant. The kitchens were empty save for the aroma coming from the range, the laundry room abandoned, the scullery strangely silent and the servants' dining room deserted. He walked through this domain that he owned yet felt strongly that he did not belong, placed his tray on the table in the scullery and stood in the passageway leading to the back door. Sir Carlos stood aside as ranks of black-garbed, white-aproned Erikas filed past him, each one bobbing a head and muttering _sir._ At last Cardinal walked in. She halted.

"Sir Carlos! It is an unexpected honour to see you below stairs. Was there something in particular you wanted? I will ask Erika to--"  
"No," Sir Carlos spoke quietly. "I just wanted to see what was happening. Is something lost?"  
Cardinal let out a relieved sigh and smiled. "Fortunately not, sir. May I escort you back above? Ortiz and I wanted to ask you about--"  
Sir Carlos stared over Cardinal's shoulder. Two more figures stood in the doorway. The housekeeper looked round, shrugged and mouthed _sorry_ then walked past her master and back to her office.

Sir Carlos smiled when he saw Palmer and the cook. The two men closed the gap between them, standing shoulder to shoulder with their hands behind their backs. Sir Carlos frowned at the two faces in front of him. Faces with raised eyebrows, darting eyes and parted lips.  
"Palmer, Harlan, what is going on?"  
Neither had a chance to answer before a high pitched wail came from behind them. Sir Carlos looked down. In the gap between the two men's legs he could see a third figure. Small, filthy and crying.

"Oh you poor thing!" Sir Carlos crouched to peer at the streaked face eyeballing him and wiping its nose on Harlan's apron. "Are you what everyone was in a tizzy looking for?"  
The child sniffed and nodded. Carlos smiled.  
"Well, looks like you are found now. What is your name?"  
The child retreated behind the cook.  
"Sir, he is--" Palmer embarked on a convoluted explanation he had concocted in an instant. Harlan cut him off.  
"Mine. He's mine. I found him and he is mine."  
Sir Carlos smiled. "Then I'm happy you have him back safe. Please send him with Palmer or Erika to get a bath, clean clothes and something to eat. I still have to feed my guests tonight. I want to talk with you after dinner when my guests have gone."  
The cook nodded at Palmer. Palmer took the child by the hand and smiled down at the face smiling back up at him. Harlan found a cheerful smile and called after them, "Bye Roger, see you later."  
Sir Carlos asked Cardinal and Ortiz to meet him in the drawing room as soon as tea was ready.

Erika opened the door with one hand whilst carrying the tea tray with two more. They set the tray down and lifted the pot. Ortiz scowled and waved Erika away. Ortiz poured three cups adding a slice of lemon to each.  
Sir Carlos waited for the door to close.  
"May I ask a personal question?"  
Two pairs of eyes watched him, unsettling him with their wariness. Carlos sighed.  
"Do either of you have children?"  
Cardinal shook her head. Ortiz laughed.  
"I have my angels, my Erikas."  
Sir Carlos smiled. Ortiz and Cardinal couldn't help but smile in return.  
"I wonder," Sir Carlos was serious again. "What made Harlan hide his boy from me? Did everyone below-stairs know?"  
Cardinal and Ortiz exchanged a look that betrayed the answer. Sir Carlos frowned and sighed again. Cardinal explained.  
"Servants with children are generally asked to leave. Earl... Cook Harlan can't afford not to work here. That is what we wanted to ask you about."  
"And," Ortiz leaned forward, pointing at Sir Carlos with the corner of a triangular sandwich, "he's a damn good cook. The boy is no trouble. He will not upset the order of things by straying where he does not belong."  
Sir Carlos sensed that the discussion was closed.

+++


	2. Honoured Guests

Upstairs, Sir Carlos allowed Palmer to help him undress. Palmer carefully hung his master's informal daywear ready for the next day. Sir Carlos stood in his underclothes, waiting for his valet. Palmer smiled.  
"Um, sir... Carlos, you expect your guests at eight? It is only just after six now. You do not have to dress yet."  
Carlos smiled. "Really? I have almost two hours before I have to socialise with Vansten and his assistant?"  
Cecil laughed. "Yes! Dressing you will take about fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. You have plenty of time. McDaniels will probably be punctual. Vansten will be late, he will want to make an entrance."  
Carlos grinned and pointed a finger at Cecil then at his own sternum. " _You_ and _I_ have over an hour with no demands on our time. What do you suggest we do? Cecil?"  
Cecil leaned in, murmured _science?_ and kissed Carlos's neck, just below his ear.

Twenty-five minutes later they lay in each other's arms, chatting quietly about their lives. Cecil talked about his routine, how it changed when _Sir Carlos_ inherited the manor house, flashing his perfect smile and shaking out his perfect hair. Carlos talked about how time appeared to depend on his perception, how time spent with his alluring new valet was all too fleeting but time spent with Carlsberg the shopkeeper seemed to stretch. Cecil laughed.  
"Steeeeve Carlsberg! Oh he's awful."  
"You know him? Of course you do, you are from here."  
Cecil snuggled closer to Carlos and kissed the point of his shoulder, his collarbone, the curve of his neck.  
"I do not want to talk about that fool. Hmm," Cecil checked the pocket-watch on the nightstand. "You have to be composed and presentable in thirty minutes."  
Carlos stroked Cecil's arm as Cecil played with the soft hair on Carlos's chest. "No need to move yet."  
"Mmm. No."

After a few seconds of silence during which Cecil felt Carlos's muscle tone change with his mood, Carlos sighed.  
"Cecil?"  
"Mm-hmm?"  
"Where does Harlan's boy live?"  
Cecil tensed, hoping not to have to lie.  
"With Harlan and me. We share one of the bigger servant bedrooms in the attic and Roger sleeps in our room. He eats when we do."  
"Oh. Who cares for the bo... Roger when you are both on duty?"  
Carlos continued stroking up and down Cecil's arm to the point where overstimulated skin began to feel painful.  
"Dana and Josie... Cardinal, I mean, and Ortiz sometimes let Roger play or nap in their office. There is usually someone who can step in and help out. And he is a good boy, Earl... Harlan sometimes lets him stay in the kitchen if he promises to sit in the corner and not wander into the scullery."  
Cecil shook his arm and Carlos stopped stroking.  
"It is hardly the ideal environment for a child. What did you plan to do once he became too big to share his father's bed? Does the child have a mother?"  
Cecil thought very carefully before he answered.  
"I know nothing about his mother and we did not anticipate his sleeping arrangements would be a problem. Carlos, can I ask something of you?"  
Carlos frowned but nodded, with a warning that there could be no promise of agreement to whatever Cecil wanted. Cecil laid his head on Carlos's shoulder.  
"Don't make Earl send Roger away."  
Carlos neither refused nor replied.

Cecil kissed Carlos on the shoulder and shook him gently.  
"Got to move now. Get you dressed for dinner."  
Carlos groaned. Cecil slipped out of bed and dressed himself quickly. Carlos watched.  
"All the times you have dressed me, I could have done it myself."  
Cecil grinned. "Yes, and every time I was glad you chose not to."  
Carlos laughed and hauled himself out of bed. He saw how Cecil's eyes flicked up and down his form.  
"Not embarrassed to look any more?"  
Cecil smiled. "I averted my gaze before because I had no permission, no right. It made me uncomfortable to want so much to fill my eyes but not trust my own reaction. Now go wash quickly."  
Carlos sniggered. "Perhaps I would be quicker if you helped me."  
Cecil shook his head.  
"I sincerely doubt it, sir."

Washed, dressed and curls tamed, Carlos greeted his guests in the billiards room. As expected, McDaniels was waiting and Vansten had not yet arrived. Carlos watched as McDaniels both won and lost a game, bickering with himselves about who was the best player while a number of Erikas made sure McDaniels did not run out of sherry for long.

Vansten arrived in a flurry of Very Important Reasons for why he was delayed. His assistant smiled at Carlos and shook hands, a courtesy Vansten had omitted. Carlos was saved from having to concoct smalltalk by McDaniels, who seemed to know five times as much as everyone else and relished the opportunity to boast his broad but shallow learning. A sound from the doorway alerted Carlos.  
"Ortiz?"  
"Dinner is served, Sir Carlos."  
"Thank you."  
Carlos smiled at his guests. "Would you care to... oh."  
Vansten breezed past him and sat at the head of the table. McDaniels occupied one entire side. Jake shrugged at Carlos and murmured _he's trying to unsettle you because you are an interloper, like me._

Carlos sat in the middle of the long side of the table, opposite McDaniels. He had Vansten on his left and Jake on his right. Dinner passed with discussion of a range of business topics, including funding for science investigations of local phenomena. Carlos watched as Erikas, one per occupied chair, stood alert and moved in to assist his guests in serving themselves food and pouring wine. McDaniels ate with little regard for what was on his plate. Jake picked at his food, checking it over carefully before eating. Vansten savoured his meal and called to Ortiz to compliment the cook. Carlos helped himself to potatoes and vegetables once his guests had taken what they wanted.

Carlos reached for seconds from the vegetable dish only for another hand to get there before his fingers brushed the rim. He looked up and failed to suppress an expression of delight. Palmer smiled down at him. Jake looked from one to the other and knocked his wine glass, spilling deep burgundy over cream table linen.

Jake jumped up, all eyes on him and the Erikas who hurried to fetch cloths and salt.  
"Oh! I am so sorry! How clumsy of me."  
Carlos stood to calm the assistant.  
"Ah, I am sure no harm was done. Perhaps this is a good time to return to the drawing room for coffee and to sign our business agreement?"  
McDaniels asked if there would be cheese and port. Carlos glanced at Palmer, who nodded and vanished through the concealed door by the fireplace. Vansten glared at Jake and sat back in his chair.

Carlos and McDaniels had already almost left the table. Jake shrugged at Vansten and smiled. Vansten rolled his eyes and stood up, forced to follow his host back to the drawing room and consoled only by his assistant's hand on his shoulder. McDaniels stayed long enough to sign his part of their deal, drink five glasses of port and clear the cheeseboard. Ortiz escorted him to the main entrance and waited to help McDaniels into his coat, with five Erikas holding his hats and scarves.

With McDaniels gone, Vansten relaxed a little. He sat back with his coffee cup and gently interrogated Carlos about his plans for the manor. Carlos displayed an enthusiasm for his scientific research that Vansten missed, hearing only concepts he did not quite understand. Vansten glanced at Jake, who listened to Carlos and nodded every so often.

Carlos stopped and frowned, staring at the doorway. A boy of about four or maybe a small five years old ran in and collided with Carlos's legs. Carlos reached down and lifted the boy up.  
"Hello, you are not supposed to be in here!"  
A set of rapid footsteps followed the lad into the room. Harlan pulled himself upright and took a step back when he saw Roger in Sir Carlos's arms, Vansten staring at them both. Vansen smiled.  
"I take it this boy is not your son."  
"No, he belongs to Harlan, my cook." Carlos smiled at the child and bounced him up and down. Vansten frowned.  
"Your cook has a child who is permitted to be in the manor?"  
Carlos shrugged, murmuring to the boy in Spanish.  
"I only found out this afternoon."  
Roger giggled at something Carlos said that he almost understood. Vansten sighed and looked at Jake.  
"There is a proper place for the children of servants. I could take him off your hands and make sure the father is suitably compensated."

Vansten stood and reached his arms out for the boy. Harlan ran forward.  
"NO!" Harlan stood between Vansten and Sir Carlos. "No!"  
He turned to face his master.  
"Don't, I beg you, don't let this happen. He's my boy, don't send him to Vansten's poorhouse. He will--"  
Vansten bellowed.  
"HE WILL RECEIVE TRAINING FOR A TRADE!"  
Harlan whirled to Vansten again, face an angry snarl, fist pulled back.  
"If you think any amount of money is enough for me to let you send my boy to sweep your infernal chimneys I swear I will--"  
Vansten snarled back.  
"Know your place, servant! Rules are there for you to follow. You may not keep that child and keep your position."  
Vansten calmed himself, now cold and firm.  
"I am offering to do you a favour. I will see that he is, you know, gainfully employed from tomorrow morning."  
Earl yelled something incoherent. He flung his fist at Vansten, but it did not connect with its target. Instead, Earl flailed at the air as Cecil lifted him by the waist and pushed him out of the room.

Carlos frowned at Vansten. Roger showed his distress by bawling loudly and no amount of crooning in soft sibilants would placate him. Ortiz stepped forward.  
"If I may, sir?"  
Carlos held Roger out and the boy fell into the butler's arms, hugging around her neck and sobbing more softly. Ortiz left the room. Carlos turned to Vasten.  
"What was all that about?"  
Vasten shrugged. "Heh, you're an interloper. Rules say that servants may not have children. If they do, they have to leave employment. Servants exist to, you know, serve the lord of the manor. Nothing else to distract them, or whatever."  
Carlos glanced at Jake who sat with his head in his hands, shaking it from side to side slowly.  
"What would you do with such a small boy?"  
Vansten laughed. "Take him to the poorhouse tonight, have him taught how to climb fast. I want that kid, the Irish ones are small and quick and learn fast that heat rises."

Jake saw, but refused ever to describe, what happened next. The business contract that Vansten and Sir Carlos had just signed landed in the fireplace, charring and curling at the corners before a _whoof_ heralded its demise. Carlos himself grabbed Vansten by the lapels and propelled him backwards out of the room, down the hall to where Ortiz stood ready to open the door. Vansten staggered under the force of Carlos's shove, tripped on the first step and tumbled to the gravel below.

Jake collected his master's coat and hat, murmured _thank you, Sir Carlos, for a memorable evening,_ and retrieved Vansten from his embarrassment.  
Sir Carlos raised an eyebrow at Ortiz. The butler said one word.  
"Kitchen."

Sir Carlos entered the kitchen. Harlan sat on a stool, cradling Roger in his arms. The boy was asleep. Palmer sat close beside the cook, an arm around his shoulders. Harlan's eyes were red and his skin looked puffy, Palmer carried an expression that hovered somewhere between concern and hopefulness in the flickering light from three candles and the glow from the embers of the stove, fire door open to warm the kitchen.  
Sir Carlos cleared his throat. Earl's head snapped up.  
"You can't take him. He's not yours to take."  
Harlan held Roger tighter. Palmer held Harlan tighter. Sir Carlos pulled his mouth tighter into a firm line.  
"Harlan, I have no intention of taking Roger away from you."  
Harlan raised his head.  
"But I am forbidden from--"  
Carlos held up a hand.  
"My house, my rules. I say you are allowed to keep your boy and your job."

Cecil sighed and turned his head as Ortiz entered.  
"Sir Carlos, that is not how things happen here. If anyone finds out that you are breaking the rules, or even bending them too much, you will lose business, lose this house and we will all be looking for new employment in a difficult time. This is our home. Don't do anything, or say anything, to ruin our lives."

Carlos stared. "What do you mean?"  
Ortiz explained. "Our society has certain values, _a-moral code_ if you like, that dictates our place, and our place determines which rules apply to us. You are a master, that gives you privileges we do not have. You went to school to learn more than just enough to be useful to someone else. You have money, more than just enough not to starve. You have respect and you are acknowledged as who you are. If you decided not to be a scientist any more but to be something different, people would shrug and say, there goes Sir Carlos the poet. Or whatever."

Carlos shrugged in confusion. Josie sighed.  
"We are servants. We go to school until we are eleven and then only if our parents can spare us from work. We go into service, or farm work, or learn to be clerks if we know someone who can get us a reference and an introduction. Those less fortunate, illegitimate, children of servants, go to the poorhouse where Vansten and others like him snap them up and spit them out when they break. We have no say in the matter, no agency, and no life beyond what we are permitted. Tell me," Ortiz sat. "How many of your maids and footmen would you recognise again? How many do you have?"

Sir Carlos hung his head.  
"You see? We are not acknowledged. We are not recognised as who we are. And once on a path we may not deviate from it. That is our life. Ruin us with a careless word, or a careless action, and we do not recover."

Carlos listened, processed, frowned, met Ortiz's steady gaze.  
"Are you telling me I _should_ send Roger away? Because I will not agree to that. There has to be a way to keep him here."  
Ortiz smiled. "That is a matter for discussion when we have all slept."

Ortiz left the kitchen, taking a candle with her. Harlan's head was down, streaks reflecting candlelight from his cheeks. Palmer caressed Harlan's hair. Sir Carlos looked around. They were the only people left below-stairs. He sat in the place vacated by Ortiz.  
"Harlan, I will not take Roger from you. But we have so much to discuss and decide. Can you tell me anything about him now?"  
Palmer scooped Roger into his arms.  
"May I be excused? Sir Carlos..."  
"Cecil? There is only us here."  
"Carlos. I will put Roger to bed and stay with him until Earl comes up for the night. Then I will attend to you."  
Carlos nodded. Cecil took a candle and left, closing the kitchen door with a soft click.

"Harlan... Earl..."  
"Thank you, Sir Carlos. I don't know how to thank you. I don't..."  
Earl wept, Carlos moved up to Cecil's seat and patted the cook's hand with awkward movements. Earl threw his arms around Carlos and hugged him.  
"Thank you so much! I thought I would lose him if he was found. I can't bear to think of him in Vansten's poorhouse. I can't bear to think of any of them. He wouldn't last the winter."  
Carlos swallowed and patted Earl's back.  
"How did you come to have Roger?"

Earl sat up and wiped his face.  
"I found him wandering in the woodland just over a month ago. He was clothed in rags and starving. He was terrified of me, I called to him and he would've ran but he couldn't, his feet were bare and he had a cut on his heel. I caught him and he struggled until I switched to my own tongue. He touched my face when I spoke to him in Gaelic. I talked nonsense to him about Ireland, wrapped him in my shirt, fed him my lunch and sat with him until he fell asleep. I brought him back here and sneaked him upstairs to the room I share with Pal... Cecil. Cardinal found out straight away and insisted on taking him for a bath and finding some clothes, although there was nothing in the house to fit him until Cecil made him something out of the charred remains of the library curtains and an old sheet too worn to repair."

Carlos smiled. "You did a good thing, Earl. Go to bed, look after your boy."  
Earl nodded. He smiled and looked sideways at Carlos.  
"So, uh, should I expect Cecil to come up the back-stairs tonight?"  
Carlos frowned. "I do not know what you mean."  
Earl laughed.  
"I believe you."

Earl picked up the last candle and left Carlos staring into the embers of the range. He frowned and went over one fact in his head.  
"Wait a minute, I have a _library?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The artwork, which is completely awesome, is http://the-child-from-italy.tumblr.com/image/132154584727  
> A most talented artist and OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!


	3. Local Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vansten shows how far he will go to get what he wants.  
> Help comes from a surprising source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For information - Wikipedia says:  
>  _  
> Before and during the formation of the UK, Christianity and homosexuality clashed. Same-sex sexual activity was characterised as sinful and, under the Buggery Act 1533, was outlawed and punishable by death. LGBT rights first came to prominence following the decriminalisation of same-sex sexual activity across the UK between 1967 and 1982._  
>  The death penalty was removed in 1861.

Carlos woke for the second time when there was light and the distinctive aroma of Cecil's coffee. He smiled, warm, remembering the first time Cecil had woken him that morning, with a caress, a kiss, a promise and a warning in darkness.  
_Hey, I have to get up for work now. I'll be back to wake you properly later. No one but you and I and Earl can know I slept here last night._

He had come up to his chamber late the previous night, after the fireglow had almost died leaving the kitchen dangerously dark. Cecil was waiting, pacing back and forth. Carlos had smiled. Asked if the boy was asleep, asked if cook was asleep.  
Cecil had nodded and said, "Earl is sprawled out and snoring in our bed. Roger is silent in his. I do not want to wake them when I retire for the night."  
Carlos had felt thumping in his chest and heat in his belly, had held Cecil's hand to still him.  
"Stay, share my bed tonight."  
Followed by a frown.  
"So... you normally share a bed with Harlan while the boy has his own?"  
Cecil had shrugged and nodded.  
"Roger will cry and hide if anyone tries to share with him. Earl and I have been friends since we were children and have often slept in the same bed. In busy times when there are many overnight guests bringing their own maids and valets, we all have to double up."  
Carlos had relaxed at that. "Oh. I wondered if you and cook... you know."  
Cecil had smiled and kissed Carlos before helping him out of his evening wear and into bed.

Carlos yawned and stretched, reached out a hand. Cecil sat on the edge of the bed and smiled.  
"Time to wake up, Sir Carlos. Coffee?"  
Carlos sat up. The curtains were open and pale light filled the room with grey. Carlos sipped at his coffee.  
"How are cook and his boy?"  
Cecil took the hand Carlos held out to him.  
"They are fine. Earl wonders if you would be happy with lunch on a tray in your laboratory again today and the remains of last night's feast for dinner. He wants to work in his herb garden and keep a close eye on Roger in case he wanders off again."

Carlos put his coffee cup down. Cecil got up and refilled it.  
"Cecil, I want to talk to you and to Harlan and I think it would be best if Cardinal and Ortiz were also part of the discussion. We need to come up with a plan for Roger."

Cecil stiffened, his words spilling in panic.  
"Roger gets to stay with Earl, right? Please promise you have not changed your mind!"  
Carlos swung his legs out of bed and stood up. He reached out to Cecil and held him close.  
"Yes! No! Um... Roger stays. But... Aah, I need to talk with someone who knows about these things. Legal things."  
Cecil nodded and returned Carlos's embrace.  
"I know a man who can help."

Sir Carlos and his valet sprung apart at a tap on the door. Carlos pulled on his robe, Cecil answered the door.  
"Urgent message for Sir Carlos, he has a visitor."  
Erika held out a thick, ivory card with a name embossed in gold leaf.  
"What is it, Palmer?"  
Sir Carlos wasn't sure that Erika wasn't smirking. Palmer closed the door before Erika had turned away, opened it again and murmured a few words to Erika. Erika trilled and cooed in response then skipped away.  
"Sir, Marcus Vansten is waiting for you in the billiards room."  
"Ugh, can I pretend to be out? I wanted to do science all morning."  
Cecil shook his head slowly, mouth a tight line, more tight lines on his forehead.  
"Fine. I will see him. Please tell Harlan to keep Roger well out of sight until Vansten is gone."

Sir Carlos shooed Palmer away and dressed himself. Palmer met him on the main staircase and laughed.  
"Let me fix that."  
"What?"  
"Your collar stud, did you fix it? Your collar is uneven. Here, let me."  
Palmer stood on the stair below Sir Carlos. Sir Carlos ducked his head and Palmer felt along the back of his collar for the errant fastening. Sir Carlos smiled, it felt so intimate, Palmer's fingers at the back of his neck sending tingles down his spine and across his shoulders.  
"There, that's better."  
Palmer smoothed Sir Carlos's collar into place and smiled. Sir Carlos glanced quickly left, right, ahead, behind, up, then gazed down into Palmer's eyes and kissed him.  
Palmer patted Sir Carlos's cheek, grinned at him and continued on his way up to tidy his master's bedchamber.  
Sir Carlos continued downstairs and into the billiards room. 

Vansten was smiling.  
It was not a pleasant sight.

"Ah, Sir Carlos. I have waited long enough so I will keep to the point." Vansten sat on the settee against the wall and played with billiard balls, sliding them over each other in his hands, passing them back and forward. Carlos wondered if Vansten was about to juggle.  
"I am surprised to see you here. I thought I was clear--"  
Vansten stood and laughed, an abrupt huff of breath, and rolled the billiard balls across the baize.  
"You will give me the boy. If you refuse I will inform the police and Magistrate Winchell, Mistress Hart at the _Post,_ and the vicar or whatever, that their beloved Sir Carlos is fucking his valet. A private act that I am sure you know is publicly punishable."  
Carlos stepped forward, fire in his core. "Are you blackmailing me?"  
Vansten laughed again.  
"Of course! Y'know the best thing? It doesn't even matter whether it is true or not. It will be local knowledge that you're engaging in illicit, intimate acts with a servant. So, you give me the boy. If you don't, I'll, y'know, ruin you. Funny how inspiration can strike like lightning at the simplest things. You know, the sound of birdsong, the smell of the ground before rain. Heh, the sight of lovers kissing."  
With that, Vansten walked to the door. He turned in the hall and looked back at Sir Carlos, who stood with ashen face and ashen mouth in the doorway of the billiards room.  
"You give my new proposal some thought and I'll be back tomorrow. I'll see myself out this time." 

Sir Carlos waited for the sound of footsteps to fade before he yelled for Ortiz and raced upstairs. Sir Carlos burst into his room. It was tidy, Palmer had been busy. Erika knelt by the grate, clearing out the grate and setting out fuel for tonight. Erika jumped up and bobbed their head. Sir Carlos looked around but Palmer was not there.

Ortiz stood by the door.  
"You called for me, Sir Carlos?"  
Carlos turned, panic evident on his face and confirmed in his voice.  
"Yes! I need you and Palmer and... no. No, just you two. And maybe Cardinal. Cardinal is good in a crisis, yes?"  
Ortiz and Erika exchanged a look. Ortiz shook her head and Erika got on with their work. Ortiz frowned at Sir Carlos.  
"Cardinal is good in a crisis. Palmer is... not so much."  
Sir Carlos clenched his fists and breathed deep.  
"Then please get Cardinal and meet me in my laboratory."

The laboratory offered Carlos a comfortable silence in which to think. He fiddled with the glassware in front of him, picking up and putting down, stacking and unstacking beakers in size order. Ortiz entered with Cardinal.  
"Sir Carlos?"  
"Please, sit down. I have ruined us."  
Ortiz rolled her eyes. "So dramatic! Tell me what happened and I'll be the judge of how bad it is."  
"Vansten is going to tell everyone that Palmer is my lover unless I give him Roger tomorrow."  
Carlos sunk his head in his hands. Cardinal reached out a hand and patted his shoulder.  
"What does he know?" Cardinal felt Sir Carlos tremble under her hand. "He can't have any proof."  
"He saw..." Carlos let out a sob. "He saw me kiss Cecil. It was just a kiss, over all too quickly. Where I grew up that is how people greet each other." Carlos wiped his eyes with his fingers. "The rules are different here, I know. He said it didn't matter whether it was true or not, I'd be ruined."

Ortiz frowned and sat back. Cardinal continued squeezing Carlos's shoulder gently.  
Ortiz breathed out.  
"Shit. I thought you understood you had to be careful."

Carlos sat in misery while Ortiz and Cardinal discussed damage limitation plans. Cardinal ruled out sending a few of the burlier Erikas round to the Vansten residence to _have a word_ because she suspected Vansten would be encouraged to know Sir Carlos took him seriously, and might demand more.  
"You can't threaten him, Josie," Cardinal sighed. "I heard he has a table made of human bones. You can't deal with a man like that." Ortiz nodded, granite-faced.  
"Dana, I heard he boasted about owning one of McDaniels's poorer cousins. He has no principles at all."

Carlos imagined his future. It was short. He imagined Cecil's future, Harlan's future, Roger's. His stomach churned and his head spun.  
"No."  
Ortiz looked at Carlos.  
"What do you mean _no_ ?"  
Carlos shook his head.  
"There has to be a way out of this. There has to be a way. I am a _scientist!_ And I solve problems. This is a problem. I have to be able to solve it if I just think for long enough."  
Dana sighed.  
"Do you _have_ long enough?'

Carlos let his head fall into his hands again. Ortiz and Cardinal got up to leave him to his thoughts but there was a kerfuffle outside in the corridor.  
"You can't..."  
Erika's deep alto voice was cut off by an insistent tenor.  
"I must and I will see Sir Carlos! Is he in this room?"  
The laboratory door was flung open and a man stepped in, looked around and spoke.  
"Sir Carlos! Thank goodness I found you. Has Vansten been here... Oh. I see that he has."  
Jake walked over to Carlos. He looked over at Ortiz and Cardinal.  
"Please, can I have a moment with Sir Carlos?"

The butler and housekeeper left when Sir Carlos nodded at them. Jake sat beside him. Sir Carlos banged the table with his fists, startling Jake.  
"Come to find out if I've capitulated already? I have a message for your master but I would prefer to deliver it myself."  
Jake shook his head.  
"No. Please, Sir Carlos, I am here for reasons of my own. Marcus... Mister Vansten is trying to blackmail you?"  
Jake waited for a reply, holding Carlos's eye contact uncomfortably.  
"Yes. He said--"  
"I can guess what he threatened to say. Don't give it another thought. I want to help you."  
Carlos frowned. "Why would you do that? Vansten is your master. You owe him your loyalty."  
Jake laughed. "I owe Marcus a lot and I am loyal, I curb his most destructive moves. If he succeeded in blackmailing you, nobody who knew would want to be associated with him. And I have other more personal reasons for wanting to help. When the Erika that Palmer sent arrived to say Vansten turned up here, I guessed what he planned and ran here straight away to give you something."  
Carlos closed his eyes and rubbed his face.  
"Jake, I am an intelligent man but I am struggling to work out what the Hell is going on here today."

Carlos heard the laboratory door open and close, and felt a welcome presence in the room even before a familiar hand brushed his shoulder. Cecil stood beside Carlos.  
"Jake can help. Remember I said I knew a man? Jake is that man."  
Carlos got up and threw his arms around Cecil. His words were muffled by Cecil's shoulder.  
"I am so sorry! I ruined everything."  
Cecil patted Carlos's back.  
"No, no you didn't."

Jake tapped a beaker on the table. Carlos let Cecil go and sat down. Cecil sat opposite. Jake held an envelope out to Carlos.  
"Read this."  
Carlos took the letter out of its envelope and unfolded the paper. His eyes scanned the page. Jake watched as Carlos frowned, scowled, smiled, then wept quiet relief.  
"You see?" Jake held his hand out for the return of the letter. Carlos handed it over and waited for Jake to put it safely away. "Tell Marcus you know about this letter he wrote me and he will back down."  
Carlos dried his face with the clean handkerchief Cecil offered him.  
"Jake, doesn't this implicate you too? Won't Vansten be angry with you for showing me this?"  
"Yes," Jake said with a shrug. "But he will forgive me. That story can wait. Now, about the boy. You have to make him your ward. I hope you don't mind my presumptuousness but I sent for the magistrate. I need to talk with you, Sir Carlos, and the boy's father."

Carlos nodded and Cecil went to fetch Earl, who had taken Roger to see the chickens. Cecil carried Roger, the boy in turn cradling a warm egg in both hands, to the kitchen and entertained him in their own developing sign language, to the amusement of the Erikas engaged in laundry and cleaning and polishing and making sandwiches. Roger cooed and chirped back at the Erikas, gestured at Cecil and giggled.

Earl headed straight for the laboratory. He paused at the door, raised his hand, but swallowed and pushed the door open without knocking.  
"Sir Carlos?"  
Carlos waved him in.  
"Please come in and sit down, Harlan. Do you know Jake?"  
Earl stopped, "Vansten's assistant?" He felt suddenly weak and tired. He shook his head. "Sir Carlos, you promised me. Please, don't do this."  
Carlos got up and took Earl's arm, led him over to the table. Earl sat because he didn't know what else to do, and bit back tears.  
"No! Earl, please listen to what Jake has to say."

"First, I need to know. Is the boy actually your son? I mean, is there or was there a mother who was your--"  
Earl shrugged. "Can't be proved. You can't take him away from me because I can't prove I made him. You can't prove I didn't. So I say he is my boy and he has no mother. I don't know what became of her."  
Jake smiled.  
"You misunderstand me, Harlan. All I need to know is whether there is anyone who might read a court notice in the newspaper and claim the boy as theirs."  
Earl bit his lip and shook his head. Jake nodded.  
"Mm-hmm. Good. Your only way to keep the boy with you is to agree to allow Sir Carlos to adopt him as his ward. Sir Carlos would be the boy's legal guardian until he is of age. No--"  
Jake held up his hand to prevent Earl's interruption but Earl spoke anyway.  
"He would be Sir Carlos's boy then, not mine!" Earl turned to Carlos. "Sir, Roger is mine, I feel it."  
Carlos almost reached for Earl's hand.  
"I know, I know. I am not taking him from you. He can still grow up here with you. All that changes is his legal status and he does not need to know unless he asks."  
Jake nodded. "Right. Sir Carlos adopts the boy, you get to keep him and Vansten can't touch him. Sir Carlos doesn't adopt the boy, he has no legal right to live here and Vansten can force him to be removed from you. I do not want to see your boy suffer as--"  
Ortiz appeared at the door. 

"The magistrate is here. Harlan, you need to make a decision. Yes or no."  
Jake got up to follow Ortiz to the drawing room and speak with the magistrate. Carlos reached across the table and took Earl's hand. Earl sniffed and wiped his face on his cuff. He nodded, looked up at Carlos and quietly said _yes._

Magistrate Winchell was in full flow when Carlos and Earl entered the drawing room. Jake sorted papers into order and laid them on the table by the window.  
"Your worship, thank you for coming so quickly," Carlos said.  
"Oh it is a pleasure, a pleasure, always nice to get out of the courthouse and see my good people and those who have yet to decide what kind of people they will be. And my bad people who got away but we don't talk about _them."_  
Jake motioned Earl and Carlos over and pointed out where to sign. Jake and Ortiz signed as witnesses then, without breaking her monologue on the nature of good and evil in a changing society, Winchell added the final signature. 

"Congratulations, you are now the guardian of one Roger Harlan of this parish, date of birth, oh you said he looks about five only small? I better make that..." Winchell scribbled a date. "Yes. Birth certificate accidentally destroyed in... in... will a house fire do? Jake? Fine. A house fire it is. Do you want to change his name to... to... to... yours?"  
"What? No. He's a Harlan." Carlos smiled at Earl.  
Winchell left one copy of the papers for Sir Carlos and took the others. She explained that it would take a while to file the adoption papers with the parish council but from this moment Carlos had a ward to care for.  
"You be a good guardian, now," Winchell added as she swept out of the room and down the hall. "See he gets an approved education. And if he's small, feed him more."  
Ortiz followed Winchell out.

Jake smiled at Earl.  
"Congratulations, you just saved your boy from Vasten."  
He turned to Carlos.  
"Would you like to write a short letter to Vansten to save him a trip tomorrow? I could drop it off on my way past his house. I think it is a good idea for me to remind my master of how much he depends on me by being absent for a few days."

Carlos wrote and Jake waited to take his letter. Earl closed his eyes and shook his head.  
"This is not fair."  
Carlos sighed. "I know."  
The door opened with a creak and Cecil stood aside as a small boy hurtled into the room, launched himself into Earl's lap and giggled. Earl chatted to him in Gaelic and Roger listened, head to one side. Carlos smiled.  
"How much does he understand?" asked Carlos.  
Earl smiled, pride making him bloom. "More and more every day."  
Carlos listened to Earl's lilting voice and Roger's giggles for a minute.  
"Earl, Cecil, take the rest of the day off and spend it with Roger and each other. I will stay here and science for a while."

After the door closed gently behind his cook and his valet, Sir Carlos realised he was ravenous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - a side story about Jake and Marcus.


	4. Cods deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunken Marcus writes a letter to Jake.

Marcus swirled the liquid in his glass, checking for sediment before downing it. His assistant, Jake, had just left him and he regretted the words that had made Jake redden, stand, shout and walk out. 

Marcus stared at the bottle on the low table by his side.  
"Ah, Jake, Jake." He shook his head. "You would tell me I'd had enough. Eee-nough!"  
Marcus stood on his third attempt. He carefully deposited the glass on the table next to the empty bottle and lurched to the door.  
"JAKE! JAKEY!"

No response. Marcus wondered if Jake had gone right out of the house, but snorted at his own stupidity. Where else could Jake go? He had nowhere. No one. Marcus sighed. That has been one of the reasons Jake got the job as Marcus's personal assistant in the first place.  
No divided loyalties.

Marcus returned to the empty bottle and remembered that it was empty in the second before he lifted it. He cursed.He groaned. He thought _if Jake was here he would fix this for me. Jake would make it better. Jakey makes it all so much better. Jake went away because..._  
Marcus put a hand over his eyes and snivelled.

He had to make this better. Jake, lovely Jakey deserved better. Marcus walked the slow, careful steps of the aware-drunk to his desk, pushed his business papers out of the way and sat with a fresh sheet of vellum and his favourite pen.

_My dearest Jakey-boy,_

_If I could take back what I said about your heritage I would, but, you know, I said it and it's out there in the open now._

_If I could take back my words about how you only got the job as a clerk because you were too big to fit up a chimney or whatever, I would retract that too. But I can't. It's true, you were thirteen when the poorhouse matron said she had "a big 'un what can write good" and brought you out to show me._

_I would like to clarify that when I said you were a lovely looking lad I meant nothing at all improper. Just that I liked your face and the way you scowled at me. So funny. I got you apprenticed to my bank._

_Do you remember that time I saw you working at the bank and I waited so I could have you as my clerk? Aah you probably do as that was your last day working there. I got you fired so that you'd have to accept a position directly under me._

_I know you think you hate me. You have said it often enough but I still love you for it. You hate me yet you don't leave. You hate me but you'd hate being poor or whatever even more. I respect that. I can work around that._

_You remember poverty, don't you?_

_I don't think you hate me. You resist me. You thwart me and it makes me want you more. I think you are afraid of the way you make me feel sometimes. I see you and I want you, I want you completely. Is that love?_

_Anyway, I apologise for whatever it was I said that made you leave tonight. We were having such a nice time together, my arms were around you but you did not shrug me off. You'd had a glass of wine and you let me kiss you. Was it the part where I said I wanted to bend you over my bone table and bury my cock-stand cods deep in your fundament? Was that too much? ~~Ha! I had an extra bone that~~ _

_Dear Jake, please be assured I would never do such a thing without your enthusiastic invitation. I am a boor but I am not a monster._

_Please come back and stay with me. I love you._

_Marcus_

 

Marcus smiled to himself. It was perfect. He let the ink dry, folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope and carried it carefully to Jake's bedroom door. Marcus stumbled and landed flat on his belly, the letter still clutched in his left hand. He knelt before Jake's door and pushed the envelope underneath before falling asleep on the parquet floor.

Marcus woke up in bed with a basin beside him and a glass of water on his nightstand. He groaned and drank the water.  
He woke again much later feeling slightly better and sat up. He retched and lay down again.  
Later still, Marcus ran a bath and tried to wash his hangover away. He dressed in his robe and headed downstairs.  
His study door was open. He cursed.  
"Sir, is that you?"  
Marcus walked in. "Jake! Good, you're here. I may have, you know, drunk a little too much last night. Or whatever."  
"Really?" Jake's face opened in mock alarm. "What makes you think that, sir?"  
"My headache. Thank you for putting me to bed. I assume you did because I don't remember going to bed but I woke up there."  
"I did. What can you remember from last night?"

Marcus thought. He helped himself to coffee from the tray brought in by the maid.  
"I remember cuddling on the settee and you yelling at me. I was sad about that."  
"Hmm." Jake tried to hide a grin. "You don't remember maybe... writing a letter?"  
Marcus frowned.  
"Jake, if I wrote a letter when I was drunk I hope to God you had the sense not to deliver it."  
"Hmmm," Jake repeated. "You don't remember, for example, admitting that you got me fired from the bank?"  
Marcus frowned and shook his head.  
"Okay let me try another." Jake took a sheet of paper from his pocket and shook it out. "I want to bury my cock-stand in your fundament?"

Memory came crashing back. Not all of it, not in order, but enough. Marcus lunged at Jake, grabbing at the sheet of paper. Jake resisted but gave in after a minute of grappling. Marcus looked at the paper.  
It was a shopping list.

Jake laughed.

"Marcus, if you think I will ever let you see that letter again then you take me for a fool. You are right, I don't hate you. I think you have the potential to be truly evil and I could hate you if I put my mind to it. But maybe I am supposed to be with you NOT LIKE THAT! I mean be your assistant, stop you from doing anything that is unnecessarily evil."

Marcus frowned. "What, like my conscience?"  
Jake shook his head. "No, more like a thorn in your side. So I will stay." Jake patted Marcus on his cheek. "But will you please get rid of that dreadful table?"


	5. Education

Cecil and Earl returned with Roger at dusk, having taken him into town at Carlos's suggestion and bought him new clothes. Earl took Roger upstairs to bathe and dress him. Cecil went straight to the laboratory and lit a lamp, bringing it over to the table where Carlos sat staring into space. Carlos jumped when the lamp landed on the table in front of him, smiled at the face opposite lit by the warm yellow glow of burning oil.

"The town was buzzing, Sir Carlos, word gets around quickly. I think Jake told Hart at the newspaper office to ask Magistrate Winchell for an interview. Everybody knows you are Roger's legal guardian. Everybody who reads the evening edition of the _Post_ that is."

After a moment, Cecil sighed. "Earl hoped this would be a quiet, private matter. I think Jake wanted it publicly known that you had scored a point against Vansten. That makes Vansten dangerous."

Carlos nodded.  
"That is one of the things I have been thinking about. I am happy you are back. I... I missed you today. I sent you all away and just sat here. I did not know I needed anyone until I sent you away."  
Cecil walked around the table to Carlos and stroked his hair. He let his fingers follow the contours of Carlos's face, his eyebrows, his cheekbones, his strong jawline. Cecil stroked Carlos's beard.  
"Who do you need right now, Cecil or Palmer?"  
Carlos closed his eyes.  
"I think... both?"

Cecil told Carlos to get up and led him by the hand to the laboratory door. He looked out into the passageway and dropped Carlos's hand.  
"Sir Carlos? Most of the staff, including Ortiz, have the evening off today. The remaining servants are resting. If you are hungry, I can ask cook to prepare you a tray and bring it up to you. The drawing room has been warmed."  
Carlos, invisible from the corridor, smiled.  
"Please ask cook if he would prepare a generous tray. We will eat in the drawing room. I would appreciate it if you and cook would both attend Roger and myself this evening in the absence of any other available staff."  
Cecil grinned and disappeared.

Carlos walked along the hallway to the point where it widened near the grand staircase and went into the drawing room. Erika bobbed their head and trilled _Sir,_ flapping at the closed curtains to straighten them. Carlos smiled and nodded and said, "That will be all tonight, thank you Erika." 

He sat on the long sofa and stared into the flames in the hearth. Before long, Cecil returned, leading Roger by the hand and Earl followed with a large tray. Carlos smiled at Roger and invited Cecil and Earl to sit. Earl asked Cecil to bring a table into the space by the sofa and set the tray upon it. Earl perched on a chair, Cecil sat by Carlos. Carlos watched Roger explore the room.

"Roger? Are you hungry?" Carlos waited for an answer. The boy cowered behind a chair.  
"It's all right, you are allowed to be in this room whenever you like."  
Roger darted behind the curtains. Carlos frowned at Earl.  
"Is he afraid of me?"  
Earl nodded.  
"Yes, he doesn't like being spoken to in English. If you call his name and _come here_ sharply he will scream."  
Cecil made a face.  
"Yes, he will so please don't do that."

Earl smiled at a twitch in the curtain.  
"Teacht anseo, mo buachaill. Ocras?"  
Roger stuck his head out. Earl held a sandwich and took a bite, miming delight at its flavour. Roger emerged and ran to Earl. Earl laughed and swept roger onto his lap, handing him a plate with a sandwich on it. Roger took the sandwich and dropped the plate on the rug. Carlos laughed.  
"We are working on his manners," murmured Cecil.

Carlos watched Roger eat, wriggling on Earl's knees to reach another sandwich from the tray. Roger glanced at Carlos but looked away. Cecil waved to the boy and traced signs and gestures in the air. Roger responded by staring outright at Carlos.

Carlos spoke quietly, "Hola Roger, no te lastimaré."  
Roger continued to stare and he put his head to one side, listening. Carlos pointed to his own chest and spoke slowly.  
"Mi llamo es Carlos y yo soy un científico."  
Roger frowned. "see-en-tee-fee-co."  
Carlos grinned, Cecil held his breath. Earl frowned. Carlos spoke one more time in his first language.  
"Mañana, me gustaría que le muestre algo de ciencia."

Roger giggled and looked up at Earl. Earl smiled and kissed Roger's head. Roger laid his head back on Earl's shoulder and rubbed his eyes.  
"Papa, codladh."  
Earl looked delighted. He stood up, lifting Roger who clung around his papa's neck, and took him out.

Cecil laughed.  
"I think he likes you. Earl might be annoyed that Roger's first proper spoken word was _scientist_ but at least his second was _papa."_  
Carlos smiled.  
"He should go to school. There is one in the village, the schoolmaster is--"  
"Known to favour imparting facts through the medium of fear. Carlos, Roger would be miserable there." Cecil warned. "Like I was. Dana will know someone."  
"A governess? Fine. I will ask Cardinal. Now, accommodation. Will Harlan allow Roger to move into the nursery?"  
Cecil was quiet for a minute.  
"I respectfully request that you do not make that suggestion yet."  
Carlos laughed.  
"In other words you think that is a terrible idea."

Earl tapped on the door and entered the drawing room again.  
"Sir Carlos, I will take the tray and retire if I may. Roger is asleep."  
Carlos smiled, wondering why he so wanted to smile at his cook.  
"Sit for a while. Please."  
Earl sat, but perched on the chair, not on the sofa seat beside Carlos. Cecil lounged back, head in the far corner of the overstuffed furniture and legs sprawling, almost touching Carlos. Carlos looked round at Cecil and patted his valet's knee.  
"You look tired. I won't keep you up for long. Earl, I would like to move you and Roger to one of the rooms on the floor below the attic rooms. As my ward, Roger should not be sleeping in the servants' quarters and as your boy he should not be separated from you. Cecil, you can stay in the attic if you want, or move with Earl and Roger or... well. You can choose where you sleep."  
Earl frowned.  
"Ortiz and Cardinal will object."  
Carlos laughed. "Let them. Nobody outside the house needs to know."

Earl left Sir Carlos, tidied the kitchen and traipsed up the back stairs, dreaming of a comfortable bed big enough to share without Cecil's elbow in his ribs, Erika to light a fire to warm the room before bed and tidy it in the morning, and use of a bathroom that had fewer bodies fighting over it. He kissed Roger's forehead and climbed into the other bed, automatically squeezing up close to the wall.

Meanwhile Cecil closed his eyes and yawned, warmth from the fire and a belly full of wheat and wheat by-products after an eventful day making him drowsy. Carlos took his hand.  
"Palmer?"  
Ccil sat up and rubbed his face.  
"Sir Carlos." He stood and pulled the fire screen across the hearth.  
Palmer followed Sir Carlos upstairs and into his bedchamber. Carlos took Cecil's hand again as soon as the door closed.  
"Can you stay tonight? The house is quiet."  
Cecil nodded and yawned. Carlos laughed.  
"Here, let me."  
Carlos helped Cecil to undress and held the covers back for him. Carlos undressed himself with only a couple of interruptions from Cecil regarding the correct way to hang his clothing. He slipped into bed beside Cecil and held him close. Carlos woke once for a few drowsy moments but fell asleep smiling at the weight of Cecil's arm across his chest. He woke a second time before the house roused itself, at the memory of the sound of a door closing, to find all trace of Cecil gone. 

Sir Carlos broached the subject of accommodation and education with Ortiz and Cardinal. As expected, Cardinal put up some resistance due to additional workload on her maids and Ortiz muttered about the additional expense of hiring a governess, but Cardinal said she knew of a suitable young lady.  
"The younger daughter of a proud family of modest income. I was her chaperone on a tour of some months and we became almost friends. She is capable and knowledgeable as a result of her experiences and, to the distress of her parents, quite uninterested in making herself amenable to a good match. Should I send for her?"  
Carlos agreed and Cardinal excused herself to write a letter that would begin: _My dearest Maureen, I have found you sanctuary._

Ortiz dealt Sir Carlos dire warnings of the consequences of "people" finding out that servants were living in guest rooms, but her heart wasn't in it. If Cecil and Earl moved with Roger into adjoining guest rooms, and Dana sneaked into the nursery to be with Miss Maureen, Ortiz could have a bedroom to herself most nights and the line for the servants' washroom would be smaller.

Sir Carlos spent much of the next few days doing what he liked best: science. Carlos spent his mornings absorbed in his work but afternoons with his young ward, teaching him to say _mi nombre es Roger_ and _soy un pequeño científico._

One afternoon, after a week, Cecil collected Roger at tea-time to find him wearing a small size white cotton jacket. The boy whirled one way then the other, laughing at the flapping coat tails.  
"Papa Cecil! Papa Cecil! Tengo una bata de," Roger looked at Carlos.  
"La-bo..." Carlos prompted. Roger chanted, nodding his head with every other syllable.  
"Ten-go un-a ba-ta de... labo-ra-tor-io."  
Carlos laughed and patted Roger on the back. Cecil grinned and held out his hand. Roger trotted over and held Cecil's hand. The boy frowned and let go, carefully removed his jacket and hung it on a peg. He turned and waved to Carlos and Carlos waved back, signing goodbye like Cecil had taught him.

Miss Maureen, on interview late in the afternoon, asked whether Roger's linguistic environment might impede his education. Sir Carlos shrugged.  
"He speaks Spanish with me, Gaelic with his father, something of his own devising with Palmer. He mixes them up sometimes but corrects himself. Miss Maureen, as long as the boy is happy I do not care which language he chooses to use. English would be useful to him, but he will not speak it although I suspect he understands well enough."  
The door opened for Cecil to escort Roger in to meet his potential governess. The boy stared. Miss Maureen stared back and smiled at him.  
"Hello Roger, I am Maureen."  
Roger looked at Carlos. Carlos smiled at him. Cecil stood by the door ready to catch him if he bolted.  
"Yo soy..." Roger stopped. He frowned.  
"Tá mé..." Roger stopped again, smiled and barked.  
"I am a dog today."

Carlos stared, open mouthed at the slur and Maureen tried not to laugh. Cecil questioned Roger in their sign language and explained.  
"Sir, I know Harlan took Roger to see his grandfather's dogs this morning. It appears Roger likes them."  
Maureen turned her attention back to Roger. She shifted over and patted the space on the chair beside her spare form.  
"Sit here and tell me what it is like to be a dog."  
Roger, it transpired, knew some English, and Maureen knew how to get him to use it.  
Cecil grinned and took Maureen's bag to her room, where Dana unpacked it. 

Once Roger was tired of explaining what it was like to be a dog for a day, Miss Maureen was sent to settle in, Cardinal offered to help with this endeavour. Cecil took Roger to the kitchen, dodged a floury hand, kissed Earl when nobody was looking and returned to his duties. 

Miss Maureen took her first meal in the nursery with Roger. Palmer helped Sir Carlos dress for dinner then bolted down his meal with the other servants before Sir Carlos's guests arrived. Ortiz attended Sir Carlos and his guests, listening in to discussions of science, funding and science funding.  
Palmer caught Sir Carlos's eye during an argument between two of the guests about who had been first to formulate a long complicated equation for the length of time it would take to cook a turkey to perfection. They shared a smile. The master was happy.

Palmer slipped away as Ortiz and Erika helped the last guests into their coats and their carriages. He had preparations to make for Sir Carlos this evening. The fire in sir Carlos's chamber was lit and Palmer added another log. He lit and arranged new candles on every surface in the bedroom and adjoining bathroom. He tested the water temperature and half filled the capacious tub, grateful as ever that one of Sir Carlos's first changes to the house had been to install plumbing that meant the whole house closed down for two weeks but when it reopened his dressing room housed a large, roll-top bath that filled from ornate gold plated taps so that Cecil no longer had to heat water on the kitchen stove and haul it upstairs in buckets.  
It was too hot now but would be perfect soon He added sandalwood oil but held back on the rose petals. Cecil frowned, nervous in case Carlos did not respond the way he hoped. 

The first time Cecil joined Carlos in bed, before the dinner that ended with Vansten sprawled on the gravel, had been so simple yet so exciting. They had undressed each other, warmed each other under the covers, kissed and touched and hesitated and held back until Carlos stroked Cecil's cheek and murmured a suggestion that Cecil assented to readily. They lay on their sides, facing one another, watching each other's faces smile and groan and pant through climaxes induced by their hands on each other's cocks.

Since then, they had shared Sir Carlos's bed often and said goodnight with a kiss, Cecil always kissed Carlos softly as he rose early to slip back to his own world. But nothing more had occurred between the sheets or in hastily snatched opportunities: moments shared in the laboratory when Cecil delivered or retrieved Roger, brief affectionate caresses in passing if there were no other beings in sight, stolen kisses - usually on the cheek - whilst fixing Carlos's collar. 

Cecil had confided in Earl one night when Sir Carlos had overnight guests meaning that Palmer and Harlan had to sleep in their old attic room. Earl sighed, hugged Cecil and told him to stop waiting for the perfect moment but to seduce his employer even if they were both tired at the end of a long day. Cecil calmed his nerves with the thought that preparing a scented bath was a nice thing to do for Carlos even if Carlos was unmoved by candles and perfume.

Sir Carlos missed Cecil's presence and frowned on his way up to his bedchamber. He had tried to be attentive, tried to invite Cecil to be more intimate, but always his valet had chores to do or was asleep before his head touched the pillow, or Carlos had important science that must be completed at the expense of food and pleasant company. Or Carlos was nervous and talked himself out of more direct advances. He reflected with a little melancholy that now Roger's future was secured perhaps his valet had lost interest. After all, he was so very close to Harlan that Roger called them both _papa_. Carlos felt fiery sparks of jealousy. One that Roger never addressed _him_ as 'papa', another that Harlan held a stronger bond with Cecil than he did, and the last that... Carlos stopped on the stairs as understanding hit him, shaking the memory of Earl holding on to him out of gratitude from his head.

Cecil, too engrossed in checking the water temperature and topping up the bath before the servants used what remained of the water warmed by the waste heat from the main chimney and stored in a huge tank that gurgled in the attic, did not hear Carlos. Carlos closed the bedroom door and held his breath. He turned the key.

Shadows stretched and danced in the yellow flicker from the candlelights. The fire crackled, a resiny scent coming from the cypress trimmings Cecil had asked the gardener to save for him, driving damp chill from the air and leaving welcoming warmth. The bed was fresh, covers turned back, the handle of a warming pan visible between white sheets. Carlos walked into the room, watching his multiple shadows play on the walls.

"Oh!" Cecil stood in the doorway to the bathroom. "I did not hear you come in. Your bath is ready."  
Carlos smiled. "Cecil, this is beautiful. Thank you."  
Cecil offered Carlos a kiss on the cheek. Carlos returned it as Cecil reached his hands behind Carlos's neck to remove his collar stud and his tie. Carlos allowed Cecil to undress him garment by garment, smiling at the care Cecil took in his job. 

Eventually Carlos stood naked. Cecil led him by the hand through to the bathroom and checked the water temperature again.  
"Get in, I'll wash your hair for you if you like."  
Cecil pushed his sleeves up. Carlos let out a contented sigh as he submerged himself in the warm, scented water.  
"Mmm, yes please. Only you will get your suit wet." Carlos grinned but did not open his eyes. "Perhaps you would be wise to remove your tailcoat?"  
Cecil laughed. "Yes, that is a very sensible idea, Sir Carlos."  
Carlos turned to watch Cecil remove his coat, elbows resting on the near side of the bathtub and glistening droplets reflecting flames from his dark skin.  
"Hmm," Carlos stroked his chin. "It would be a shame if you splashed soap onto those woollen trousers or dripped wax from one of the candles. It might stain."  
Cecil smiled. "What do you suggest I do, Sir Carlos?"  
"I suggest," Carlos smirked, "that you remove your trousers."

Cecil slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and unfastened the buttons of his trousers, shaking them down his legs and stepping out, folding the garment as carefully as he had done with his master's. He stood in formal shirt and tie, leggings and socks. Carlos giggled.  
"You better take the tie off. And the shirt, the cuffs will get wet."  
Cecil complied, placing his stiff collar and cuffs on a shelf and stripping down to his undershirt. Carlos pointed and smiled. "I think you ought to take those off too. Damp underthings are miserable to wear."  
Cecil grinned. He removed his undershirt, his vest, his socks and his leggings and stood naked beside the bath. Carlos sat up and slid forward.  
"Get in with me."

The bathtub was large, six feet long, made of enamelled cast iron with one sloping end, but two men filled it. With sniggering and squirming, Cecil fitted behind Carlos, knees bent up. Carlos turned to face Cecil, kneeling in the water. He took Cecil's ankles and guided his legs so that Cecil reclined with his back against the sloping end of the tub and his knees bent enough to allow Carlos to kneel between his legs. Carlos splashed warm water up Cecil's chest and shoulders, then grabbed the soap.

Carlos bathed Cecil, slowly massaging lather onto his skin and rinsing it off, leaving nothing unwashed. He started with arms and legs, hands and feet, soaping and rinsing and kissing before moving on. Carlos asked Cecil to sit up and turn around so that he could wash Cecil's back. He lathered soapy circles around Cecil's skin and held him tight, slithering against him as he soaped Cecil's chest and stomach. 

Carlos urged Cecil upright on his knees, held his hips and waist and thrust once against him slowly, waiting for a reaction. Cecil leaned his head back and turned, just able to kiss Carlos's jaw. Carlos released his grip and resumed stroking Cecil's chest, running the pads of his fingers over Cecil's nipples and revelling in the little gasps of pleasure this act produced. 

Cecil reached one hand behind himself to hold Carlos's hip. With the other hand, Cecil took one of Carlos's soapy hands and pushed it lower. Carlos slipped his hand under Cecil's balls and stroked up his cock. Cecil breathed out a long sigh and dropped his head backward onto Carlos's shoulder. Carlos cupped Cecil's cheek in one hand, turned his face and kissed his lips. 

Cecil leaned forward slightly and ground backwards onto Carlos, moving his hips from side to side. Carlos groaned at the feeling in his groin and thrust forward again, his erection finding the cleft of Cecil's buttocks, his shaft sliding against Cecil's entrance. Cecil gasped and giggled. Cheeks burning, Carlos backed off. He found the washcloth and began rinsing Cecil, cascading water over his shoulders, chest and stomach. Cecil turned to face Carlos and smiled.  
"It's all right, you know, we can do that if you want."

Carlos reached for a towel. He guided Cecil to stand and wrapped the towel around Cecil's shoulders, hugging and rubbing him dry.  
"Sit," Carlos said, pushing Cecil's shoulder gently. Cecil let Carlos help him out of the high-sided tub and perched on its edge. Carlos got out too, knelt and dried Cecil's feet and his lower legs. He sat between Cecil's knees, looking up at Cecil's face, wondering if Cecil could feel his heart racing. Carlos slid his hands up Cecil's thighs, stopping and looking up again. Cecil nodded and murmured, _sir, oh yes._

That was enough encouragement for Carlos. He kissed Cecil's thighs, nudged Cecil's knees farther apart and leaned forward. Cecil glanced behind, leaned back and braced his hands behind him against the opposite edge of the bath tub. Carlos wrapped both arms around Cecil's hips, dipped his head and kissed the head of Cecil's cock, opening his mouth to pick it up with his lips. It slipped out again. Carlos giggled, apologised and admitted he hadn't much experience. He brought one hand around to angle Cecil's shaft up and closed his lips around the head again. 

Cecil moaned encouragement. Carlos massaged Cecil's shaft with his hand, occasionally flicked a thumb over Cecil's balls, and sucked gently, using his tongue to investigate exactly what made Cecil whimper so delightfully. Carlos listened to Cecil's breathing and felt the twitch in his cock and repeated whatever caused Cecil to moan and gasp. Cecil breathed out a warning and Carlos lifted his head, stroking Cecil with his hand until he came, cried out and laughed, letting himself sag back into the cooling bathwater.

Carlos laughed and helped Cecil up, handed him the towel. Cecil grinned, dried off then pushed Carlos backwards through the bathroom doorway to his bed. Carlos sprawled across its width with Cecil on top of him. Cecil sniggered.  
"Now, sir, let me see whether I can teach you a thing or two."


	6. Competition

The memory of what he had done with Cecil, and what pleasure Cecil had shown him was possible, kept Carlos warm for days. 

Sir Carlos blushed when he saw Palmer the next day, having woken up once again to a warm impression in the mattress beside him but a cool absence in his reality. Palmer smiled at him when it was time to rise, lighting his whole face. Sir Carlos did his best not to giggle back at his valet as they exchanged coffee and kisses. Carlos invited Cecil back into bed, but Palmer had duties to attend.  
"Sir Carlos, much as I would enjoy the pleasure of your company, I have to see to your laundry and clear the candle wax from your bathroom. If I neglect my work, the other servants will think I don't care for you."  
Sir Carlos closed his eyes and sipped coffee. "That would never do."  
Palmer clambered up the bed, straddling Sir Carlos over the blankets, leaned forward and kissed him. Sir Carlos laced his fingers together behind Palmer's shoulders and pulled him close. Palmer sighed.  
"And I care for you very much."  
Sir Carlos kissed his valet.

During the day, a busy day for them all with the promise of dinner guests, Sir Carlos saw Palmer only in passing, but never without checking to see if the coast was clear and exchanging a touch or a kiss or a murmured endearment. Even alone, when Palmer helped Sir Carlos dress for dinner, there was little time for personal matters. Carlos held Cecil close and kissed him but Cecil pushed back after yielding initially, muttering _mmm, later._

Dinner was as memorable as usual. McDaniels ate enough for five strong men and drank enough for ten. Vansten's intake was modest, moderated by his assistant, Jake, who glanced at Carlos often and incurred enough of Palmer's ire that his glass and Vansten's were often empty. When they retired to the billiards room for business talk, Palmer persuaded Ortiz that she would like the rest of the evening off and stood in her place by the drinks cabinet.

As usual, McDaniels stayed to sign his end of their deal, drank whatever remained in the port decanter, denuded the manor of Manchego and blue stilton then left. Vansten challenged Sir Carlos to billiards. Carlos shrugged and agreed. Palmer lit the lamps above the billiards table and stood back, offering a glare that Jake returned with a smirk. 

Vansten played a game punctuated by interruptions and sudden moves. Sir Carlos, annoyed but unflustered, played with scientific accuracy. He still lost.

Carlos shrugged.  
"Well played, Mr Vansten."  
Vansten laughed and bowed.  
"Perhaps a competition amongst all present? You can play Jake, I will play... Palmer, isn't it?"  
Sir Carlos shot a glance at Palmer, who shook his head slowly. Vansten laughed.  
"It appears your manservant only plays with you. Oh well, to business."  
Jake sidled up beside Palmer and murmured to him.  
_"My master is up to something, he's still sulking and won't tell me what it is."_

Vansten and Sir Carlos discussed the terms of their agreement with McDaniels and signed. Sir Carlos hoped that would be the end of the evening, but Vansten had one more matter to discuss.

"Sir Carlos, my, you know, friend."  
Carlos frowned.  
"You have an interest in education, or whatever. You were very keen that the village school should include, uh, _science_ in its limited curriculum. Am I right?"  
Carlos deepened his frown, but nodded. He glanced at Jake, but Vansten's assistant seemed to be entranced by the exotic pattern on the wallpaper behind Palmer.  
"It is true that I provided funds for the pupils to receive a basic scientific education, yes. Why?"  
Vansten's smile oozed smugness.  
"No reason, other than, you know, I am purchasing the school and others like it from the diocese. Seems the local church needs money more than it needs pauper children. I can set them up with skills that will lead to gainful employment in my mills and factories."

Carlos remained silent and dangerously polite until Vansten and Jake left. Palmer watched yet another contract consumed in the fireplace.  
"Ugh," Carlos complained. "Why did I think that colossal ass would have changed? I will not allow my science to profit his ventures."  
Palmer shrugged. "Because you like to see the good in people." He put one hand around Carlos's back and rested his head on Carlos's shoulder. "You will have to look much harder where Vansten is concerned."  
Carlos nodded. He scowled. "Ceece, how can I stop him? I doubt I have available funds to finance all the local schools."  
Palmer tried not to laugh with delight at the endearing contraction of his name.  
"You might not have the right connections, but do you know anyone who does? Jake may be of limited help this time."  
Carlos eased his scowl a little. "Maybe I do know someone. For now I will console myself with letters to the bishop and the parish council. Palmer, will you help me write them? It is so long since I attended church."  
Cecil shook his head. "No, you need Earl for that. He grew up closer to religion. Should I fetch him, if he is still up?"  
Carlos shook his head.  
"It's late. Tomorrow will do."

The next morning, Earl attended Carlos in the morning room. Cook Harlan, Palmer explained, thought it an impropriety to attend Sir Carlos in his bedchamber. Sir Carlos sat with coffee and his writing case on the breakfast table. Harlan hovered to his side, making occasional suggestions of phrases to include in his master's letters. After a few minutes, Earl poured more coffee.  
"Sir Carlos, will you not have something to eat?"  
Carlos laughed. "No, Palmer's coffee is sustenance enough at this hour. However, I look forward to your efforts later in the day. I miss..." Carlos shook his head. "Aah nothing."

Earl picked up on Carlos's wistful tone.  
"You miss something? Sir, if it is a recipe from home I will do my best to replicate it."  
Sir Carlos smiled. "Harlan, thank you for the offer, but I doubt ingredients for tamales are obtainable in the local market. Besides, it would put me in the difficult position of having to compare your cooking with that of my mother."  
Cook Harlan frowned and, at last, sat as he had been invited to twenty minutes earlier.  
"Your mother was a cook?"  
Carlos laughed. "My mother was my mother. She cooked for the family."  
"You were not..." Earl searched for the right words, "...not born into the landed gentry?"  
Carlos shrugged. "As a child I played outdoors in bare feet and I went to my local school. We were not poor, but we had a different kind of richness in our lives."  
Earl read over the letter Carlos passed to him but couldn't focus on the words.  
"How did you come to be lord of our manor?"  
Carlos scratched his head.  
"I have no idea. I was travelling, came upon this house, pulled on the bell and Ortiz welcomed me inside with a plate of corn muffins."  
Earl laughed. "I bet they lacked salt. We always seem to run out."

Carlos sent Erika to deliver his letters and, since Palmer would be too busy until lunch, decided to spend time on science. First, he checked on Roger in the nursery with Miss Maureen. The boy was busy explaining something to his governess, who asked questions and supplied new words to Roger when he lacked vocabulary. Maureen frowned at her employer.  
"I apologise for interrupting, Miss Maureen," Carlos backed away from the strength of her glare, "I just came to say good morning to Roger." He smiled at Roger. "Buenos días, Roger ¿Quieres jugar con la ciencia más tarde?"  
Roger smiled and nodded. He frowned at Maureen, glanced back and forth between Maureen and Carlos a couple of times, opened and closed his mouth twice.  
"What science can we do?"  
Carlos beamed at Roger.  
"Depende de ti!"  
Roger looked at the carpet.  
"I want to know who is strongest. Papa Cecil or Papa Earl."  
Carlos frowned. Maureen rolled her eyes.  
"Sir Carlos, Palmer and Harlan made a bet late last night. Roger heard them and decided to settle it with science. Look."  
Maureen held out a slate with careful drawings scraped onto its surface. Carlos raised his eyebrows and nodded at Roger.  
"¡buen chico! Esto es muy científica."

A gentle tap on the laboratory door disturbed Sir Carlos after a couple of hours of peaceful scientific study. He yelled _entra_ and the door creaked open. A rumble of footsteps gave away Roger's approach. Carlos looked up, laughed and swung the boy into the air.  
Roger called out _"para la ciencia!"_ and wriggled to be down. 

Carlos dropped Roger to the floor. Roger pointed at the door, where Earl and Cecil stood.  
"Oh! Are we all doing science today?" Carlos asked, raising his eyebrows and grinning.  
Cecil laughed. Earl looked everywhere except at any other human.  
"Yes," Cecil replied. "Roger said he thinks Papa Earl is stronger than Papa Cecil. We wondered if you would care to... um... referee a competition. A trial of strength."  
Carlos frowned. "Is it science?"  
Earl snorted and walked out of the room. Cecil, face composed and voice grave, said, "Oh _yes,_ Sir Carlos, it is _very_ scientific. It was all Roger's idea."  
"Well," Carlos smiled. "You had better tell me what it is that I have to do."

On the way out to the barn an hour later, swaddled in warm clothes, Sir Carlos asked again.  
"Wrestling? Are you sure that is a good idea?"  
Harlan just smiled. Palmer shrugged. Roger pulled at Miss Maureen's hand to try to make her reach the barn faster. Inside, Sir Carlos found, the space had been prepared. Bales formed the circumference of a cleared area and on the bales outside the ring sat various members of the household and the local village. Roger gave a _yip_ and ran to an elderly man with piercing blue eyes and two large brown dogs. Carlos held his breath as Roger hugged the dogs and then sat beside the old man. Miss Maureen was busy, noting down names and amounts on a slate, stuffing coins into the recesses of her frock. Erika tended a brazier in a carefully swept area and Ortiz placed a handkerchief on a bale before sitting. 

Sir Carlos laughed.  
"Palmer, Harlan, do you do this often?"  
Palmer frowned. "Oh, no Sir Carlos. Hardly ever. Usually the stable hands wrestle the gardeners, or the choristers take on the young farmers. I expect there will be a few other matches after I have beaten Earl."  
Earl pointed at Cecil.  
"You, sir, mister I'm so well dressed Palmer, are going to end the afternoon face down in the dirt with a gobful of straw and my weight on your back."  
Cecil countered, loud enough to elicit an _oooh_ from the crowd. "Oh? Really? You are soft from all those months in the kitchen, eating half of what you cook, while I have been active traipsing up and down the stairs. I work far harder than you, physically. And I have muscles to prove it. Look!"

With that, Palmer removed his coat and both his shirt and undershirt, leaving his upper half covered only by his vest. He stood grinning at Earl and flexing his muscles. Carlos's face twitched despite all efforts not to laugh at his valet's ridiculous posturing. Maureen hooted openly with mirth and Ortiz shook her head, tutting.  
Earl stood close to Cecil, face to face, and laughed.  
"Call those muscles? Compared to mine, your arm looks like a thread with a knot in it. See what kneading br-- unspecified foodstuffs can do for you!"  
Earl undressed to his vest and draped his clothes across one of the bales. He flexed his arms and Carlos stared. Earl's upper arm muscles were well developed, a fact Carlos had missed from the brief glimpses of Earl working in his herb garden. Carlos idly wondered how it would feel to touch that pale skin, feel the bulk of Earl's bicep, trace the shape of his deltoid. 

The two men circled each other until Ortiz yelled at Palmer to take off his work trousers and vest in case they got ruined. Soon, Earl and Cecil stood in the centre of the makeshift ring, wearing leggings and grins. Carlos shook his head, wondering if he should delegate refereeing to Ortiz and leave, but Cecil and Earl both looked at him, waiting to begin their bout. He shrugged, removed his coat and stepped inside the circle to cheers from the onlookers. 

"Uh, go?"  
Earl lunged at Cecil and Cecil dodged aside to jeers from the small crowd. Cecil spun on his toes, bouncing slightly, waiting for Earl's next move. Earl leapt for Cecil again, feet kicking up straw from the dirt floor, head and shoulders low, a powerful move that made Carlos think of wolves. Cecil countered by dodging again but Earl was prepared, he jabbed one foot out and Cecil fell, tumbling to the earth with Earl's arms clasped around his middle. 

The small crowd buzzed and cheered. Ortiz, who had been watching Sir Carlos, stood up and marched to the edge of the ring. She put both hands around her mouth and shouted.  
"SIR CARLOS WILL FIGHT THE WINNER"  
Carlos spluttered and turned to see Ortiz grin and wink at him. He felt his cheeks flush and started to protest but the assembled Erikas cheered and the visitors from the village clapped. Carlos shook his head and waved his hands in refusal. But Ortiz had hit her mark. 

Cecil abruptly pushed himself over, flipping on top of Earl. Earl squirmed out of Cecil's grip and lurched up, turning and laughing. Cecil stood, facing Earl, arms half up and out as if inviting him to embrace. They circled each other, regaining breath, resting before the next attack. Carlos watched, unaware of anything except the two half-naked men, staring at each other, chests heaving and glistening with perspiration despite the cold, just a few feet away. 

Earl's eyes flicked to Carlos's face for a second and Cecil saw his chance. He dived for Earl's legs, knocking him down and landing half on top. They lay tussling on the ground while spectators stood to get a better view. Earl pulled Cecil up across his body, then rolled him off, contriving to land on top. Carlos moved closer, looking to see if Cecil's shoulders were in contact with the floor. Carlos looked up, Roger stared intently from the opposite side of the ring, having crept forward, eyes narrowing as Cecil wriggled his way out of Earl's grip and stumbled to his feet. Earl almost stood before Cecil knocked him to the floor, tumbling him onto his back, and flopped down with his chest perpendicular to and on top of Earl's to pin Earl's shoulders down. 

Carlos began to count. 

"ONE!"  
Earl rocked back on his shoulders, swinging his legs high to try to roll Cecil off over his head. Cecil moved further up Earl's chest, his armpit almost in Earl's face.

"TWO!"  
Earl tried to push Cecil off with his hands but could not get grip on his slippery skin.

"THREE!"  
Earl appeared to give up. He lay still, arms above his head. Cecil twisted to taunt him, telling him he had lost.

"FOUR!"  
Earl tried one more time to tip Cecil off. He bucked his hips up sharply but Cecil's weight was too high on his chest for Earl to have much leverage. Cecil giggled in delight.

"FIVE!"  
"PAPA EARL!"  
For such a small boy, Roger had a large voice. Earl angled his neck, straining, to see Roger watching with a look of despair. Earl pushed up with all his strength and Cecil did not hold him. Cecil landed on his stomach with Earl on his back. Earl yelled, "WHAT DID I TELL YOU? EH?" 

Cecil slapped the floor in admission of defeat. Earl sprang up and offered him a hand to get up. Carlos watched with a nervous frown until Cecil laughed and slapped Earl across the stomach, then hugged him. Roger cheered for Papa Earl and ran into the ring to be hoisted onto Earl's shoulders. Maureen started counting out coins to those who had bet _Ortiz interferes_

Earl and Cecil dressed in their vests and undershirts by the brazier. Carlos suggested perhaps they should return to the manor house to bathe, get clean, warm and dry before dressing. Ortiz sighed.  
"Alas, the onlookers are too busy deciding whether Palmer threw the match and let Harlan win to remember that you were to take your place in the ring, Sir Carlos."  
Carlos opened his mouth to reply but Ortiz shook her head.  
"Probably for the best. Your interest in that match is evident."  
Carlos pulled his coat around himself and followed Palmer and Harlan back to the house. He caught up by the back door that led into a narrow passageway past the laundry, the main kitchen, the scullery and the servants' dining room with the housekeeper's office attached. Earl and Cecil were bickering. 

Carlos listened for a minute as they batted no-you-did-not and yes-I-did-sot to and fro. He laughed and they turned.  
"Sir Carlos! Your valet says he let me win. You saw, I won fair and square, didn't I?'"  
Carlos shook his head and grinned.  
"Oh no, I am not getting involved in an argument between such close companions. If you want to settle the matter, then you must have a re-match without such outside interference as Ortiz threatening that the winner fights the master, or young Roger calling out in distress, unable to bear the idea that Papa Earl cannot conquer all adversaries."

Cecil thought for a few seconds.  
"So, Sir Carlos, what you are saying is that Earl and I should arrange a wrestling match with only you present as adjudicator and no other soul as witness?"  
Carlos was on the point of an embarrassed chuckle and refusal when Earl spoke up.  
"That seems fair. Day after tomorrow after lunch? Maureen and Dana are taking Roger into town for new breeches, he's growing fast now he's eating, then to visit his grandfather. Most of the staff will be with their families. It will be just us two, Erika and Ortiz to look after the house and the master."

Cecil smiled. He caught Carlos's frown and pouted.  
"Oh Sir Carlos, do you deny it would be entertaining? To slip out of the house and help your two most attentive and loyal servants to settle such an important matter?'  
Carlos laughed.  
"Fine, I will referee your rematch if I can. But I expect a visitor that afternoon. Someone who would rather not be seen here."


	7. Match

Cecil woke early as usual, surprised that he had managed to sleep. He looked at the snoring form beside him and smiled, slipping an arm over his sleeping companion's waist and murmuring quietly, wanting to wake him gently rather than drag him from sleep.  
_"Wake up sweetheart, we all have a busy day today. So much to do before everyone gets to have their time off! Spend time with Roger, lunch, a mystery visitor after, and then..."_  
Cecil sniggered. The lump in the bed rolled over and threw its arm over Cecil.  
"Palmer, I swear I will still beat you. Sir Carlos is going to see you eat dirt. Again."

Earl opened his eyes, stifled a yawn and kissed Cecil.  
"Good morning. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my bed? Sir Carlos kick you out? Erika taken over our old room?"  
Cecil sighed and snuggled closer to Earl.  
"No, but he stayed up very late last night and insisted I should go to bed. Said he had important science to do. Stood around stroking his chin and saying _hmm_ a lot while he read some letters. I better get up, I bet his room is a tip. i wish... ugh no point."  
"No point," agreed Earl, "in wishing for something you can't have. I wish for... hmmm... a kiss from you."  
Cecil pushed himself up onto his elbow, leaned over and kissed Earl.  
"And," Earl continued. "Ah no point either."  
"What is it?" Cecil frowned. "Tell me. You know I will get it out of you eventually."  
Earl stretched and yawned again.  
"Sure you will. Fine. I wish that every morning I could wake up to a good morning kiss from you..."  
Cecil pouted. "But I do come to you every morning."  
"Ah but there's more. I wish that every morning I could wake up to a good morning kiss from you..." Earl lowered his voice, "and another from Sir Carlos."  
Cecil buried his face in Earl's shoulder to hide his grin. He pulled himself on top of Earl, feeling the cook's fingers combing through his hair. Earl sighed.  
"Aah, mo ghile, nach bhfuil againn am. I have to make breakfast. Come to the pantry with me and help before you take Sir Carlos his coffee?"  
Cecil kissed Earl once more then rolled out of bed and into his clothes.

Sir Carlos, however, slept badly. He had been disheartened by the contents of the letter he received back from the parish council and the diocese, which confirmed that Vansten had indeed made a generous offer for control of local village schools. The other letter Carlos had sent, to a fellow scientist in the city, remained unanswered. His disappointment hung like a fog around him and Carlos had sent Palmer away rather than share his bad humour. 

Palmer had slipped away without argument. Probably, thought Carlos with a sour twist, to be with Harlan. He thought about the way his two servants had taunted each other, posturing, onlookers encouraging them with calls and whistles and laughter. Carlos closed his eyes as he felt heat rise up his face and his head spun. Were Harlan and Palmer together? Had he chased his beloved Cecil into Earl's arms? Were they lying together right now, laughing at him for believing that they shared a bed out of necessity? For his inexperience?

Carlos had tortured himself a little longer then taken himself to bed. His room was warm, embers crackled behind the fire screen and his bed had been turned down. He undressed by the fire-glow, arranged his clothing as carefully as he could, removed the warming pan from between the sheets and got into bed on the verge of tears. He felt something under his pillow. Carlos sat up and lifted his pillow. There, small and deep red on the mattress, lay one of the very last late rose buds from the garden. Carlos dozed with it stinging his hand.

Carlos woke exhausted with a rosebud clenched in his fist and light encroaching through his eyelids. He groaned.  
"Good morning Sir..."  
Carlos felt a weight dip the mattress beside him and Palmer's voice changed.  
"Good morning my love. Can I say that now? Oh! You found it."  
Cecil took Carlos's hand. Carlos let Cecil peel back his fingers one by one and take the tiny rosebud.  
"Ah, I left a thorn. I thought I had removed them all."  
Cecil placed the rosebud on the coffee tray. Carlos sat up, rubbing his eyes. Cecil laughed.  
"Oh my dear Carlos, you had a bad night? How late did you stay up?"

Carlos sipped coffee, frowned and thought.  
"I came to bed not long after I sent you to go to Earl."  
Cecil did not even blink.  
"Ah. But you did not sleep well. I can tell. Is something bothering you?" Cecil felt his stomach churn but he did not know why. "I mean, anything I can help you with?"

Carlos was quiet.  
"Sir?"  
Carlos sipped more coffee.  
"Are you and Earl lovers?"  
Carlos looked away, examined the dense weave of the cotton sheet.  
"The things you have shown me, did you learn them with Earl?"  
Cecil sighed and stood on weak limbs, voice wavering.  
"Do you... do you want me to ask Erika to be your valet?"  
"No!" Carlos's reply was immediate. "I want to know what happens now, Cecil, I have fallen for you so completely it's frightening. I don't want to be like Vansten."

Cecil almost dropped the coffee tray.  
"You are nothing like Vansten and I am not Jake!"  
Carlos gaped at Cecil's horrified expression, his face burning and his mouth stuffed with cotton.  
"I only meant that if you and Earl are lovers, and I am in love with you... Ugh I don't know how to say what I want to say. I want to know whether I am a diversion, if I overstep your boundaries, if I am a source of amusement. I saw when you wrestled, and after, and I felt... something. What am I, Cecil, to you?"  
Carlos swung his legs out of bed but did not stand up for fear of the tremble in his core upsetting his balance.  
Cecil sat beside him on the edge of the bed.  
"Yes, I sleep with Earl when I am not with you and when I leave here I go say good morning to him. I suppose Earl and I are lovers and have been for a long time although there is little sentimental speech between us. But..." Cecil put his arms around Carlos who had sunk his face into his hands, "that does not take anything away from my love for you. Do you think we are such limited creatures that we can only have one of anything? One favourite? A single other being to fulfil all our desires?"  
Carlos laid his head on Cecil's shoulder and took a deep breath. He shook his head.  
"Cecil, I grew up believing I should have one partner who would provide children and companionship as we grew old and merged into one another, that all other desires should be hidden. You are opening up a new existence for me. I beg you to be patient with me."

Cecil held Carlos tight, kissing and stroking his hair, pushing him back down to the bed and lying beside him, murmuring endearments. Carlos calmed after a few minutes and stroked Cecil's face, alternately kissing him and apologising. Cecil laughed and fended him off.  
"Carlos, I have to attend to my duties!"  
Carlos lay back, heaving out a sigh. Cecil sniggered.  
"Perhaps we can _attend_ to each other later."  
He pushed himself up onto all fours, climbed over Carlos, pausing to kiss him and murmur _you are my favourite scientist._  
Carlos smiled and replied, "And Earl is your favourite cook?"  
Cecil nodded. Carlos frowned.  
"Do you have any other favourites? A favourite gardener or stable-hand perhaps that I should be aware of?"  
Cecil laughed. "No, no other favourites. Ha, we will see about putting your, _stable hands_ to use later."  
Cecil righted his clothing to the sound of Carlos's snigger.

The morning passed with Earl teaching Roger how to make bread in the kitchen, Miss Maureen assisting Cardinal with the selection of new linens for the nursery which somehow required them not to be disturbed until lunch was ready, and Cecil tidying Sir Carlos's bedchamber and doing his personal laundry to comments from Ortiz about _handling the master's privates_. 

Sir Carlos spent the morning in his laboratory, looking over yesterday's problem with tired eyes. Interest and concern for village education from the parish council and the diocese had not condensed overnight and Carlos was disappointed, but not surprised, to find the problem remained. A tap on the door, a creak and thundering footsteps warned Carlos that Roger had arrived for lunch. Carlos grinned, lifting the boy for a hug. Earl followed Roger into the laboratory. He carried in a large tray and set it down on a table well away from the bubbling liquids that signified science in progress.

Earl removed the covers from dishes one at a time as Carlos stared.  
"I had to ask around, you know? I couldn't make tamales because I have no idea what they are. But Ortiz said you might like this. Roger rolled the bread out flat and mixed the spices together. There are onions and vegetables and chopped tomato and beans, and Ortiz tried to describe some other stuff but I can't make funny food at short notice from the village market. Maybe if I can go into the city I'll have more luck with whatever vegetables you are used to. Anyway, I did my best and before you say anything about it remember Roger rolled the bread wraps and mixed the spices. I just fried everything that looked like it should be fried." 

Carlos stared at the tray. Earl opened the dishes to reveal what looked like wheat tortillas, refried beans, fried onions and carrots, and tomato salsa. He laughed. Roger watched Carlos, Earl watched Roger. Carlos took a flour tortilla, a little thick for folding but acceptable for rolling, added beans, vegetables and salsa then tucked up one end and rolled it up. He handed it to Roger before making one for Earl and one for himself. The three looked at each other, smiled and ate. Carlos coughed and laughed. It was terrible.

"Roger, you made this for me? That was so kind of you! It's really good, thank you so much!"  
Carlos beamed at Roger, who beamed back, dumped half of his tortilla on the tray and picked up the beans and a spoon. Earl chided him but Carlos said it was fine. Earl chased Roger out with the bowl to go eat in Cardinal's room and wait for Miss Maureen to take him out.  
"It's bad, isn't it? Don't tell me you like it if you don't, you'll get it again if you do that."  
Carlos laughed until he almost cried. Earl could not keep from smiling despite his shame.  
"Earl, I really love that you did this for me. Thank you."  
Earl stood, and lifted the tray, already planning tomato and vegetable soup.  
"But your ma has nothing to fear, I take it. I'll send you up a sandwich."  
"Earl, I mean it, thank you. Um..."  
"Was there anything else, Sir Carlos?"  
"Maybe some other day when the house is quiet I can describe one of my mama's recipes to you and we can decide what must have gone into it by scientific deduction. I bet you could grow cilantro, and Carlsberg can probably order in some ingredients for us and we can look for alternatives if not. It will take some planning, if you don't mind sitting with me to do that?"  
Earl smiled, eyes down, nodded and left the room. Carlos wondered whether part of Earl's blush was for him.

Sir Carlos's visitor arrived after lunch and waited in the billiards room, unannounced. Carlos went to meet him when Ortiz tapped on the laboratory door and gave him a meaningful stare. Carlos entered the billiards room. His visitor sat in the alcove beside the bar.  
"Jake?" Carlos offered a handshake. Jake accepted, almost furtively. "Why the secrecy? Is Vansten with you?"  
Jake shook his head.  
"Vansten thinks I am in town to purchase a new suit for his next party. He likes to show me off."  
Carlos thought Jake sounded bitter.  
"Is there something you need from me?" Carlos smiled and sat near Jake. "Or is there something you wanted to say?"  
Jake frowned.  
"Maybe both. The schools deal is going ahead, but as a landowner you have influence. If you support a candidate who has little time for Vansten for chair of the school board, the schools will benefit from Vansten's money but he will be able to inflict limited influence on the curriculum. I have someone in mind, a clever sort with a way of fogging people's minds and making them do what he wants without them realising it."  
Carlos shrugged. "I will do what I can. Will people listen to me?"  
Jake laughed. "Maybe, maybe not. You are distrusted as an interloper, but most would prefer your recommendation to Vansten's."  
Carlos laughed. "Fine. Who is this bright but nebulous being I should propose to head the school board?"

Jake relaxed after spending some time with Sir Carlos. Carlos suggested billiards and as they played, Jake realised he was telling Sir Carlos far more than he intended about his employer. What he heard made Carlos uncomfortable, but he reserved his opinion. Carlos watched Jake take a shot, and frowned.  
"Did you take that shot badly on purpose?"  
Jake shrugged. "Marcus expects me to give in."  
"I am not Vasten." Carlos smiled, remembering Cecil's reassurances.  
"No," Jake smiled. "That is apparent."  
The door opened and Palmer's voice sailed through.  
"Sir Carlos? I apologise for the interrup--JAKE?"  
Carlos straightened up from his shot.  
"Palmer! Jake came to me with an idea. Vansten must not know he was here."  
Palmer shrugged. "Fine by me. Carlos, you remember our... your planned activity for this afternoon?"  
Jake sniggered at Palmer's deliberate slip. Sir Carlos pretended not to notice.  
"Be assured I have been thinking about it all day long. I will attend to it in a moment. Jake, have you considered that a man like your employer might like you to stimulate his ego in ways that are... not physical?"  
Jake shook his head, frowning.  
"I think you might find Vansten manageable for a while if you flatter him in other ways. Offer to transcribe his memoirs or something."  
Jake laughed. "That might keep his hands at his sides for a few weeks. Marcus does like to talk about himself."

Carlos excused himself, apologising and asking Palmer to see that Jake escaped unseen. Jake shook hands with Sir Carlos again then turned to Cecil once the door closed.  
"Sir Carlos seems like a nice employer."  
"He is." There was an edge to Cecil's voice.  
"Hmm. I would like to ask your advice on a small personal matter if I may. Not now, I sense that you are going to be... busy. But soon." Jake waited while Cecil decided on an answer.  
"Very well. I owe you for that diversion with the spilled wine I suppose, and for showing sir Carlos whatever it was that made Mister Vansten back down."  
Jake grinned. "I really thought you were going to kiss Sir Carlos in front of Marcus. I was afraid it would have set a precedent for dinnertimes at home."  
Cecil saw Jake out with less frost in his face than usual.

Earl and Cecil prepared an area behind the barn, out of sight of all but the sheep recently moved from the moors to the low pasture against the promise of early snow on the tors. They swept the ground of stones, scattered straw in a circle and built a bonfire with dried clippings and felled branches from the gardens. Carlos arrived in fading light to find his servants already shirtless from the heat of their exertions. Earl's pale skin reflected orange and yellow. The firelight gave Cecil's upper body a warm glow. Carlos sat on the bale they had dragged out for him and watched.

Cecil's voice called out.  
"Winner fights Sir Carlos, that is what was agreed, yes?"  
Carlos laughed. "Fine, as long as there are no witnesses."  
"Loser gets a forfeit!" Earl laughed. "That's usual, isn't it?"  
Carlos shrugged, warmed by the fire and the sight before him.  
Cecil removed his black trousers and stood in the circle wearing only his leggings, his breath misting in the sharp November air. Earl removed his trousers too, making a show of handing them to Cecil to be folded correctly. Carlos laughed as Cecil carefully shook out Earl's trousers, folded them perfectly, shrugged and tossed them into the distance.

Earl yelled and threw himself at Cecil, knocking Cecil backwards. Cecil retaliated by ducking and lifting Earl's leg, unbalancing him and making him hop backwards, arms windmilling, for a few steps before he crashed to the ground. Earl grabbed Cecil's arms on his way down, flipping Cecil over his head so that Cecil landed on his back, exhaling sharply and causing a puff of vapour above him. Earl launched himself, expecting to land on top of Cecil but finding straw and cold grass under him as his adversary rolled away. 

Carlos laughed and clapped. Cecil landed heavily on Earl's back, pinning him down for a few seconds. Earl emitted a theatrical groan and a curse, got his elbows under himself and pushed up, rolling Cecil off to the side and out of the circle. 

"Round One to Harlan!" Carlos cried, helping Cecil up and dusting straw off his leggings. Cecil, breathing heavily, pointed at Earl.  
"You, sir, are going _down."_  
Earl sniggered and scratched his thigh.  
"Uh, Sir Carlos, these itch when I sweat." he pointed at his long, woollen underwear.  
Carlos shrugged. "Then remove them. Dry them by the fire."  
Earl glanced at Cecil and back to Carlos. By the time Earl unbuttoned and hooked his thumbs into the waist of his underthings, Cecil was nude. Carlos was staring, a slight smile on his lips. Earl laughed.  
"Oh in this weather you can't expect that much, Sir Carlos."

Carlos covered his face and shook his head. The Irishman took his place opposite Cecil and they squared up again. Cecil moved first, his sudden jump forward making Earl dodge right, Cecil anticipating and pushing Earl down. Cecil landed on top of Earl, pushing his shoulders into the ground. Earl twisted, hooking a foot around Cecil's leg and planting the other wide for leverage, and pushed his hips up sharply. Cecil tipped off sideways. Earl rolled on top. 

Carlos couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw Cecil's lips move by Earl's ear. It was dark, and the fire crackled. Earl pushed Cecil's shoulders to the ground for a count and Carlos declared Earl to be the winner.

Cecil laughed.  
"I lost. I accept my defat with dignity. Also I get to watch Sir Carlos in competition with Earl. Whenever you are ready, Sir Carlos!"  
Cecil walked up to Carlos.  
"You can back out if you want, Carlos--"  
Carlos handed Cecil his clothing as he removed it. It was cold, but the fire was hot and Carlos only paused for a few seconds before removing his undergarments. 

Glad of the cold, Carlos reflected that it felt oddly comfortable to be naked in the presence of unclothed Cecil and Earl, whereas clothed he had felt slightly out of place. Carlos faced Earl in their private arena. Earl grinned at him.  
"Do you want to put on a show for our Ceece?"  
Carlos grinned and nodded. Earl laughed.  
"Right, so, let's get this going. Bet you he's touching his-self by the time we're done."  
Carlos, shocked by Earl's words, was unprepared for Earl's attack. He went down hard on his back, with Earl on top and wriggling up his body to pin his shoulders. 

"C'mon, man, fight back!" Earl taunted Carlos. Carlos wriggled, loosening his arms from Earl's grip and pushing him off to the side. Carlos grappled his way on top of Earl, only to feel himself thrown off and once again pinned by Earl's weight.  
Cecil yelled to break and Earl rolled off. They stood, chests heaving, circling one another again, Carlos's dark skin contrasting Earl's freckles. Earl stared at Carlos's pink scars, star shapes low on his ribs.  
"Is that where--"  
Carlos used Earl's inattention and lunged for his hips, bowling him backwards and landing on his thighs, face level with his stomach. Carlos levered himself up and lay across Earl's chest. Earl heaved with laughter.

Cecil called it Carlos's round. Earl capitulated, claiming exhaustion after his match with Cecil. Cecil laughed.  
"All right, Earl, your forfeit, Hmmm."  
Cecil stroked his chin.  
"I could have you make all my favourite meals all week, or..."  
Earl laughed and followed Carlos over to the fire.  
"Oh I know! I will give you something that mi-i-ight be-e-e over quickly." Cecil grinned. "Earl, your forfeit is to kiss Sir Carlos."

Earl stared at Cecil, flicked his eyes to Carlos and back, grabbed his clothing and marched back towards the house.


	8. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's just porn really.

Carlos turned on Cecil, voice raised, hands in the air.  
"Why did you do that? Cecil? You embarrassed Earl. Ugh you embarrassed me too."  
Carlos pulled on his leggings and his boots and hobbled after Earl. Cecil held his breath until Carlos was clear of the barn, took a shuddering breath and bit back tears. He dressed in his leggings and undershirt, collected up the discarded clothing, checked there was a clear area around the dwindling fire, considered kicking it to nothing, and headed for the house.

Carlos caught up with Earl in the laundry room, where Earl had stripped off again. He stood, back to the door, running water into the deep porcelain sink and scrubbing at his dirt-stained leggings. Carlos stood and admired, Earl's back showed clear outlines of his trapezius, his shoulders tensed and relaxed as his arms moved, making his muscles stand out in turn. The scientist observed biceps, triceps, deltoid... He let his eyes drift lower.  
"Palmer go away, I hate you right now."

Earl did not turn. He continued scrubbing at his woollen underwear. Carlos cleared his throat.  
"I apologise, Earl, I..."  
Earl glanced back over his shoulder, too fast for Carlos to be able to work out the meaning of his expression.  
"I thought it was Cecil lurking there. Give me your things, might as well wash them together."  
Carlos looked down at his leggings and peeled them off when he saw mud spatters up to his knees. He walked over to the sink and stood beside Earl.  
"Thank you. Cecil shouldn't have done that."  
Earl smiled. "I know. He's a simple creature sometimes, Sir Carlos. He wants something, he asks for it. Or takes it. He will find a way to get what he wants."  
Carlos laughed. "You love him a lot?"  
Earl nodded. "How can I not? You?"  
Carlos nodded.

Earl shushed Carlos and kept his hands still in the cold soap-scummed water. Carlos heard the footsteps too. He mouthed at Earl, _"Cecil?"_  
Earl's grin lit his face. He waggled his eyebrows at Carlos and puckered his lips, kissing the air. Carlos stifled a giggle and looked round. A shadow in the passageway betrayed how close Cecil was to finding them.

Carlos pushed all thoughts of fear and ridicule from his head. He ran one hand up Earl's tensed arm, gently squeezing tight muscles, and finished with his fingers behind Earl's neck. Earl's blue eyes held Carlos's deep brown for a second. Carlos moved in, intending that Cecil witness the briefest, driest contact of their lips.

Cecil stared. Carlos, one hand holding Earl's face and the other stroking his ebony hair, eyes closed. Earl, soap lather on his forearms, holding on to Carlos's waist and locking their bodies together, frowning in concentration.  
Cecil wondered if Earl and Carlos looked as completely lost in the moment when _he_ kissed them.  
Cecil waited. Earl noticed first. He pulled back, allowing himself one more quick touch of his lips on Carlos's, then lowered his head and smiled, letting his forehead rest on Carlos's shoulder and peering sideways at Cecil. Cecil clutched his bundle of clothing to his body with both hands. Earl sniggered.  
"Sir Carlos? Didn't I tell you Cecil would be touching himself before we were done."

Carlos laughed silently, breaths snatched through a grin. He felt light, light headed and as if his limbs would float away if Earl were to let go. Earl held fast. Carlos dropped his hands from Earl's hair to his back, admiring his musculature, feeling Earl shiver and pull closer to him.  
Cecil looked uncomfortable, he shifted from foot to foot, adjusted the bundle of laundry he held, eyes darting all around the room.  
"Cecil?" Carlos smirked. "You can put that bundle down and leave it for Erika to do in the morning, can't you?'  
Cecil looked down, sighed and sorted the mud and grass stained clothing into cottons and woollens over by the laundry baskets, his back to Carlos and Earl.

Earl kissed the point of Carlos's shoulder, worked his way up Carlos's throat with small, dry kisses, ending up by Carlos's jaw. Carlos let out a soft whimper and dropped his hands to Earl's buttocks as Earl pulled at Carlos's lower lip, seeking permission with teeth and tongue. Carlos stoked the fire in his groin, thrusting against Earl, eliciting animal sounds from deep in Earl's throat.

Cecil whirled round.  
"Ugh, are you two TORTURING me now?"  
Carlos smiled, Earl felt his master's lips twitch and giggled into his kiss.  
"Um, Sir Carlos? I think I have more than fulfilled Cecil's forfeit."  
Carlos dropped his hands to his sides and let Earl go. He stepped backwards, face burning as passion cooled, eyes wide and teeth set in a grimace.  
"Is that it," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Is that all..."  
Carlos turned and would have left the laundry room but Cecil caught him around the waist and held him in a firm embrace. Earl was there in a second, arms around his shoulders, pressing against his side.  
"I didn't mean it like that at all. Aah, Carlos, Sir Carlos."

Earl kissed Carlos's temple and Cecil kissed his lips. Carlos felt Earl's hand slip slowly down his spine as if he was counting vertebrae, to the swell of his buttocks. Earl let his hand rest there for a moment. Carlos felt himself harden again, the thought and feel of Earl's half-erect cock stiffening against his hip and Cecil's shaft rubbing on his lower stomach excited him, invited desire to return and chase disappointment from his mind. Carlos took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.  
"Would, um," Carlos cleared his throat. "Palmer? Harlan? Would you two please attend me upstairs in my bedchamber?"

Cecil led Carlos and Earl up the back stairs to the hidden door on the landing close to Sir Carlos's room. He checked the landing was empty before scooting out and holding Sir Carlos's door open for Carlos and then Earl to dash across. Carlos laughed at the ridiculousness of being caught naked in his own house.  
Except, he realised, it was not his own house. It was Ortiz's house and Cardinal's and Roger's and Maureen's and Erikas' and they all lived under its protection. He wondered briefly if perhaps he had it wrong, the house owned them all.

Cecil closed the bedroom door and locked it. Earl set about lighting the fire prepared in the grate and Carlos went into the bathroom to see if there was hot water. There was not. Cecil joined him, then Earl, and they bathed the dirt from each other with cold washcloths and giggles.  
Carlos worried that something so good must somehow be wrong. Cecil told him to forget what he had been taught about pleasure and guilt and measuring out love in approved portions. Earl laughed and kissed him, ran kitchen-hardened fingers down his stomach to cup a hand under his balls, asking _do you feel anything wrong in this?_

Carlos shook his head. Cecil led him over to the side of the bed and asked, his voice a low murmur that set the hair on he back of Carlos's neck on end, _"what would you like to happen next, Carlos my love?"_  
Carlos closed his eyes and smiled.  
"I barely know where to begin. Oh!" Carlos opened his eyes wide. "I would like to examine Earl's muscular development. That is very scientific."  
Earl grinned, eyes and teeth reflecting flickering firelight.  
"And just what would that involve, Sir Carlos?"  
Carlos laughed. "You can just call me Carlos, Earl."  
Cecil sniggered. "I think our Earl likes the whole Sir Carlos and Harlan thing."  
"Oh?" Carlos nodded. "Fine. In that case, Harlan, you lie still," he pointed to the bed, "and only move when I tell you to move. I am going to examine you physically. Palmer?"  
Cecil's voice dripped honey. "Yes, Sir Carlos?"  
"I will require your assistance."

Earl lay back on Sir Carlos's bed. Carlos began with Earl's legs, instructing Cecil to mirror his movements as he stroked up Earl's shins, over his knees to his thigh muscles. Carlos asked Earl to pull his muscles tight and then relax, feeling the muscle tone change in his quadriceps, outlining basic anatomy to Cecil. Carlos asked Earl to open his legs further to allow him to investigate the strength of his adductors by kneeling one knee between Earl's thighs and instructing him to squeeze, admiring the contours of the muscles that bulged up under Earl's freckled skin, and the contrast between Earl's milky thigh and his own dark tones where they touched. Carlos leaned over and kissed Earl's stomach, Cecil did the same. Earl shifted, feeling the weight of Carlos's cock rest for a moment on his thigh and wishing their attention somewhere in between.

Carlos ran a hand up the inside of Earl's thigh from his knee to his groin, watching Earl's hard cock twitch towards his centre as his fingertips and Cecil's brushed against the underside of his balls. Earl, unused to being touched with such unhurried care, gripped the pillow under his head with both hands and arched, pushing his hips up but finding nothing to give him relief. Carlos laughed.  
"Hmmm, are you in a hurry, Harlan? I am not letting you go back to your duties until I am satisfied..." Carlos grinned at Cecil's snigger, "... _completely_ satisfied that I have investigated every square inch of you. Now turn over."

Earl groaned but complied, adjusting his position to allow him to press against the bedcovers. Carlos watched Earl flex his legs, kissed the bulge of his calf muscles, ran a flat hand up Earl's hamstring to the crease of his buttocks. Cecil did the same, smiling at Carlos. Earl ground into the bed, hitching his breath when Carlos sighed, rolled his eyes, leaned over and kissed then bit his backside. Cecil laughed.  
"Had enough, Earl?"

Earl rolled onto his side, facing Carlos who was still halfway down the bed that felt small today, and with his back to Cecil. Cecil moved up close, pushing his hips flush against the curve of Earl's buttocks, holding him around the waist and thrusting against him. Earl looked down at Carlos and smiled. He closed his eyes. Cecil groaned.  
"Mmhmmhmm, olive oil?"  
Carlos frowned, lips halfway to Earl's balls.  
Earl, eyes opening again, twisted to kiss Cecil and murmur _"Oh, yes!"_  
Carlos sat up.  
"Um, why do you need olive oil?"

Earl frowned and sat up. Cecil laughed.  
"Earl, Sir Carlos has, um, limited experience in this matter."  
"Oh," Earl looked from Carlos to Cecil. "So you two haven't actually fucked yet? I thought--"  
Carlos felt his face heat up and his groin tingle.  
"You mean there's more than... than... um... what Cecil has already shown me?"  
Cecil leaned over and kissed Carlos.  
"Oh yes, so much more, if you want it. Would you like a demonstration?"  
Carlos nodded.

Cecil kissed Carlos again. Earl smiled, waiting his turn. Earl knelt halfway down the bed and suggested politely that Sir Carlos should sit with his back against the head of the bed. Carlos shifted up, legs splayed and ankles over opposite sides of the bed. Earl leaned forward on all fours and kissed Carlos, starting with a kiss on the lips that made Carlos bring his hands up to Earl's head again, pulling him closer.  
Earl smiled and pulled away, then leaned down to kiss Carlos's chest, his stomach, the crest of his hip. Earl kissed up the shaft of Carlos's cock and sucked the head into his mouth. Carlos gasped, Earl licked a swirl around Carlos's cock and let go. he sniggered at the whined complaint from his master.  
"Who's in a hurry now?"

Cecil brought a small, dark brown bottle from the vanity unit Carlos sat at every morning while Cecil tamed his hair. Carlos frowned.  
"How long has that been there?"  
Cecil laughed. "Six months maybe? I live in hope."  
Earl giggled, shaking his head.  
"Olive oil, my sweet Sir Carlos, is slippery, good for the skin and smells nice. Lard will do, but... Ugh. Cardinal sometimes complains that I seem to use so much of this precious resource in my, ahem, activities."

Cecil positioned himself behind Earl and stroked his backside. Earl leaned forward, cheek on Carlos's thigh so that Carlos felt hot breath ghost over his balls, tilted his hips up, and spread his knees wider. Cecil poured a dribble of olive oil over the cleft of Earl's buttocks and massaged it around his entrance. Carlos watched Cecil's smile of concentration and Earl's open-mouthed expression of pleasure. Carlos watched, and felt his own pleasurable feeling of anticipation grow. Cecil massaged a palmful of oil onto his cock, and applied another dribble to Earl's entrance. Cecil handed the bottle and stopper to Carlos.  
"Put it somewhere you can reach."

Carlos deposited the bottle on his nightstand and watched Cecil stroke a finger around Earl's entrance, pushing it in slowly. Earl responded with a moan of pleasure and rocked his hips back. Cecil pushed in deeper, thrusting in and out a few times. Earl brought his arms up, holding around Carlos's hips, sinking back towards Cecil. Cecil entered Earl with two fingers, slowly at first, turning his wrist, pushing and twisting. Earl made sounds Carlos had never heard from a human, low, guttural noises, a kind of obscenity that made Carlos touch himself, grasp his cock in one hand and a handful of Earl's jet hair in the other.

Earl gasped at Carlos to wait and Carlos clasped his hands around the wooden uprights of the canopy bed. Earl thrust back onto Cecil's hand, begged for more. Cecil used three fingers until Earl cursed at him, a barely coherent stream of what might have been words that Carlos couldn't quite identify, although their meaning was clear.

Cecil grinned at Carlos, reached out his other hand and asked him to pour more oil. Cecil slicked his cock again and held Earl's hips still as he slid slowly into him. Earl grinned and gasped and laughed as Cecil thrust. Carlos barely blinked. Earl, head down, mouth open, so close to his stiff cock that it made him shiver to imagine what might happen. Cecil, head forward, chin almost on his chest, holding on to Earl with one arm and resting his weight on the other, hand splayed on the bedspread, thrusting at a faster, harder pace, eyes closed and lips parted, a slight frown that Carlos knew had its root in pleasure.

Earl moved his head, nuzzling at Carlos's cock, licking over his balls, mouthing up his shaft to the head, sucking it back into his mouth, working his tongue and lips. Carlos hooked his heels around the sides of his bed and gripped the upright posts again to prevent him from grasping Earl's hair and thrusting up. Cecil threw his head back and cried out rhythmic sound of heaving breaths and panted _ah-ah-ah_ s before resting his weight on both hands and, after a few seconds, pulling slowly backwards.

Earl lifted his head and gazed at Carlos.  
"I want you in me. I want to feel you inside me when I come."  
Carlos nodded and gasped out a _yes!_ He started to move but Earl told him no, lie flat, let me. Earl filled a cupped palm with oil and coated Carlos's cock. He straddled Carlos, a knee either side of Carlos's twelfth ribs. Carlos felt a hand on his cock and resistance as Earl slowly sat back, taking Carlos inside. Carlos gripped the bedspread and swore. Earl halted.  
"Too much?"  
"No! Fuck, Har...lan..."  
Cecil laughed. Earl growled _use your palm, Palmer_ and Cecil shuffled up behind Earl, wrapped an oily hand around Earl's cock and kissed his neck.

Earl moved, slowly at first, watching Carlos's face and feeling Carlos try to thrust up to meet his down. After a minute, Earl raised his weight a little and allowed Carlos to fuck him and Cecil to stroke him, only shifting to keep Carlos thrusting against the spot that sent stars searing through his core. Earl felt his climax build, the pleasurable tingle in his groin grew and spread, sending fiery tendrils to lick up to his brain. His head spun, dimly aware that Carlos was gripping his hips and crying out, Earl came, spilling over Carlos's stomach and collapsing forward into his arms.

Cecil attended to his lovers with washcloths and tender words, encouraging them to let him turn down the bed and put them between the cool sheets. Carlos reached his arms out, embracing Earl and Cecil together. They lay so close, so snug against each other out of both comfort and necessity. Sir Carlos's bed, of satisfactory size to sleep two intimate partners, was not capacious enough for three.


	9. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A silly, spooky sidestory.

Sir Carlos had a nagging feeling that he knew something, had heard something, but couldn't quite remember what it was. Knowledge hovered out of reach, buzzing closer and darting away as his mind tried to pin it down to a definite word or concept. He gave up. Perhaps if he did not try so hard to remember, the thought would pop unbidden into his consciousness.

And so it did. Carlos rose from his chair to look out the window as a colourful movement caught his eye. It was Roger Harlan, out in the herb garden with his father, helping Earl tend his rosemary and lavender by running up and down chasing a Red Admiral. It was not the butterfly that had caught Carlos's attention. It was young Roger's clothing. He wore the first set of clothes Carlos had seen him in. The frock Cecil had crafted from... what had Earl said? Curtains. The old library curtains.

Carlos remembered that the Manor had a library.

He called for Cecil in his usual manner, by saying out loud _I wonder where Palmer could be?_ and Cecil slipped into the room a few minutes later.  
"Sir Carlos! You needed me for something?"  
Carlos smiled at Cecil's hopeful expression.  
"Yes indeed! Palmer, I understand that this house has a library! I would very much like to see it. Will you please show me where it is?"

Cecil stared. His voice, enthusiasm usually bubbling over, sounded flat and tired.  
"Oh, Sir Carlos. Please, no. Carlos, please do not make me take you to that cursed room. The library! No. I... I cannot take you there. I will not. Carlos, nothing good ever came of a visit to the library."  
Carlos frowned.  
"Oh come on, Ceece, it's a library. What do you expect to find in there? Books! Information!"  
Cecil barely breathed out his words.  
_"The ghost!"_

Carlos laughed.  
"In all seriousness, Cecil, ghosts do not exist. They cannot. It's science. No scientific study has ever found evidence that ghosts exist."  
Cecil frowned and muttered, _"But they have also yet to prove that ghosts do not exist"_

Cecil sought Earl's support but Earl was not of one mind with him. Huddled around a corner of the huge kitchen table, eating a late snack of leftovers after Erika had gone to bed and Cardinal had locked up, Earl laughed.  
"Ghosts? Oh Cecil. O-o-oh Cecil. No, I do not believe in ghosts. I was brought up with many strange ideas, but the souls of the good ascend and would not return to haunt us. The souls of the evil descend and are trapped for an eternity of torment. They cannot return to haunt us. Those for whom the afterlife is less clear cut are stranded in limbo and cannot go anywhere. There are no ghosts, Cecil."

Carlos and Earl comforted Cecil as best they could but Cecil was not receptive to their offers of consoling word and gentle touches. He left them in the kitchen and took himself to bed.

It did occur to Cecil that storming off to bed in a sulk would have had more effect if he hadn't ended up in Carlos's bed with the covers pulled over his head, secretly hoping that Carlos would invite Earl up to his bedchamber. 

Cecil woke up alone next morning. He lay in the dim dawn light plotting revenge.

First, Cecil had to lay foundations for his plan. He waited for Carlos to return to his own bed, held the covers back, chose to believe Carlos's tale of finding Cecil fast asleep and not wanting to wake him, and kissed his master.  
"I thought about what you said last night, Carlos, and I will open up the library for you."  
Carlos beamed.  
"Thank you so much, Cecil! Can I see it this afternoon?'  
Cecil smiled and shook his head.  
"No, I am afraid it will be filthy with dust. Let me have it cleaned and cleared and you can see it tomorrow."

Once Sir Carlos was settled and dozing in his own bed, admirably warmed by Cecil's presence, Cecil dressed and slipped out to make coffee. On his way past Cardinal's office, he looked in. Dana sat at her desk, going through orders for the week. Cecil cleared his throat.  
"Um, Dana?"  
"Cecil, come in. Can I help you? I mean, perhaps there is a way I can help you, but I am so little help these days. Being housekeeper is not at all what I thought it would be." Cardinal smiled, a little wearily.  
"Dana, I wondered if I might have help to clear a room and move the books out of the old library--"  
Cardinal's eyes grew wide with fear.  
"No... no, not the library. I will not! I cannot risk Erika, you will not have help in this endeavour. Cecil, I beg you not to open the library. Not for anything or anyone."  
Cecil sighed. He could not risk allowing Sir Carlos into the library. He needed another plan.

Before lunch, Cecil sought Earl in the pantry. It was a cool, confined space lit by a small window designed for ventilation rather than vision. They stood as they often did, arms locked around each other's waists, cheeks brushing together, murmuring in case of eavesdroppers. Cecil told Earl of his plan to trick Carlos into believing he was in the library. Earl embellished the plan and furnished detail to the tale Cecil would tell to make the _library_ more convincing.

Next day, as Cecil dressed Carlos in ivory linen shirt, deep red silk tie and green waistcoat, he mentioned that the library may be fit to be seen that morning, should Carlos be mindful of the ghost.  
Carlos smiled and nodded, careful to avoid ridiculing Cecil's supernatural sensibilities.  
"Would you like to hear the tale of the library ghost, Sir Carlos?" Cecil asked, voice carefully even.  
Carlos laughed and kissed Cecil.  
"I have a feeling you will tell me anyway."

Cecil nodded.  
"One thing, Sir Carlos, I would like the sight of the library to be a surprise. Will you permit me to blindfold you, all the easier to reveal the wonders of the collection therein?"  
Carlos agreed, allowing Cecil to fix deep blue silk over his eyes. He giggled.  
"Cecil, you could lead me anywhere and I should not know where I was. You could do anything and I would not be forewarned."  
Cecil held Carlos's hand tight.  
"I assure you I will give adequate warning."

Cecil led Carlos slowly all around the house in a disorientating dance, all the while relating the tale of the librarian.  
"Many years ago, before you even thought of being conceived, supposing time to be a thing, there lived in the Manor a man of books. A librarian. The librarian tended his master's books. Fed them, walked them, you know."

Carlos nodded. Cecil smiled and continued. "The master loved books and his librarian was to him what your valet is to you, if you understand my meaning."  
Carlos sniggered.  
"I believe I do."

"The master loved his librarian so. _Loved_ him so very much! He would visit the library often and wander amongst the volumes. Touching a cover here, caressing a spine there. He cared not about the age of his books nor their condition. Only that they were cared for and loved." 

Carlos let Cecil steer him around a corner and up some stairs.  
"The librarian cared for books and the master cared for the librarian. He would frequently meet with the librarian amongst the shelves and," Cecil's voice dropped to a whisper that made shivers trickle down Carlos's back, "demonstrate their love for one another atop piles of unshelved volumes on the floor."

Carlos snorted.  
"That can not have been comfortable for them!"  
Cecil shrugged.  
"Who are we to judge! Whatever tickles your pickle. But, Sir Carlos, one dark night the books got loose. They attacked, the monstrous tomes fell upon the master and their own librarian. In the throes of passion, the librarian was killed outright and the master barely survived, unconscious under his beloved volumes, and his beloved librarian." 

Carlos shuddered. But Cecil was not at the end of his tale.  
"Now, it is said that whenever the master of the house enters the library, he feels a ghostly presence, a corpse-chilled hand on his... well... um... they do say that when the master was found under the librarian, the librarian's hand was lodged... um..."

Carlos rolled his eyes but, being blindfolded, the gesture was lost on Cecil.

"So, Sir, when we enter the library, if you feel anything... anything at all that might be a presence, a touch, a cold hand or ghostly fingertip on your backside, I ask that you save yourself. Scream and run, Sir Carlos, my love, scream and run." 

Carlos scoffed. "Oh come now, that is utterly ridiculous! Cecil, you will keep both of your hands in mine and then there will be no ghostly hand free to be placed upon my person. There is no ghost. There cannot be any ghost."

Cecil stopped.  
"We are about to enter. Remember my warning, please Sir Carlos, I beg that you will save yourself with no thought for me." 

Cecil turned the door handle, stiff from lack of use. He pushed the door open with a creak, a long, drawn-out complaint from the hinges. Cecil took both of Carlos's hands in his and led him forward into a room that smelled musty, like ungroomed hardbacks, neglected linen and pasteboard. 

Cecil stopped, hands both in Carlos's, held his breath, hissed.  
_Can you feel it!_  
Carlos sensed rather than felt. There was another presence in the room. 

The scent of books.

A breeze on his cheek.

Cold.

A hand?  
Maybe?

He screams.

A hand  
Definitely

A corpse-chilled hand on his backside.

Carlos leapt forward and yelled, ripping off the blindfold and cursing.  
"HARLAN! Ghosts do NOT giggle!"  
Cecil and Earl laughed until helpless tears rolled down their cheeks. Carlos could not help but join in. 

"Oh you! I knew it was a trick and I fell for it anyway. Harlan, I am disappointed in you!"  
Carlos mock-frowned at Earl. Earl mock pouted back.  
"Sir Carlos, what can I do to make it up to you?"  
Carlos grinned.  
"No one uses this room?"  
"No," Cecil grinned back. "No one comes in here. It's used for storage."  
Carlos looked around at the old furniture, too worn to put on display yet too good to give away. Weak sunbeams filtered through a cobwebbed window and reflected from dancing dust motes. Carlos sniggered.  
"Harlan, you need to warm up your hands."  
Earl rubbed his hands together, brisk friction providing heat.  
"No," Carlos laughed. "Warm your hands on Cecil."

Earl grinned. He clasped Cecil around the waist from behind and kissed the side of his neck. Earl slipped one hand inside Cecil's plaid trousers, popping the top button. He unfastened the remainder with nimble fingers and thrust both hands inside Cecil's underwear.  
Cecil gasped and giggled, his face some way between shock and desire. Carlos watched.

Cecil placed his hands over Earl's and ground backwards. He used his own hands to guide Earl's touch, let his head drop back onto Earl's shoulder. Carlos watched for a full minute.

Eventually Carlos stood in front of Cecil, close, so close they almost touched. He murmured to Earl, _Your hands must be warmed by now!_  
Earl smiled at Carlos and withdrew his hands from Cecil's cock. He pushed his trousers down and pressed his erection against Cecil's backside, reached for Carlos and unfastened his master's trousers, pushed Carlos's underthings to mid thigh while his trousers dropped to his ankles.  
Earl thrust against Cecil. Carlos kissed Cecil's throat and pressed his cock up against Cecil's belly, feeling Cecil's shaft hard on his hip.  
Earl pulled back and held his cock, placing it between Cecil's thighs, high up against his perineum, then reached his arms around to grasp Carlos's buttocks, one finger teasing at his entrance.

They moved, slowly at first, harder and faster and with less coherence until they were all spent. They stood, clinging together, huddling and smiling, until Carlos suggested maybe they should bathe before lunch.

Earl moved first, fixing his clothing, kissing Cecil and then Carlos and slipping out of the musty store room. Cecil was next, promising to be in Carlos's bedchamber with warm water and a washcloth.

Carlos righted his clothing and made for the door. He almost opened it, but had one last look around the room before pulling on the door handle. He squinted in the dimness. 

Was that...?  
Along the back wall away from the window...?  
A _bookcase?_

Carlos might have heard a snigger.  
Carlos might have felt a cold shiver shoot up his spine.  
Carlos might have felt the sensation of icy fingers on the back of his waist, pushing down...

Carlos might have screamed and run, slamming the door behind him while the ghost of the old librarian chuckled.  
After all, it had been decades since he had experienced anything quite like that.


	10. Diversions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening with Jake and Marcus.

Jake slipped into the Vansten residence by the back door, although Marcus always told him to use the front like a gentleman and have one of the servants open it for him. Jake often pointed out that he was also a servant. This served Jakes purpose, he liked to remind Marcus of his lowly status. Usually a few days later there would be a small gift and kind, if insincere, words.

Jake crept past the scullery, along the dim passageway and through the servants' door into the formal dining room. It was dark and silent. Jake breathed out relief in a long puff through half-pursed lips. He opened the door and stepped into Marcus's grand hallway. A footman in Marcus's livery, a gold brocade of his own design, pointed at Jake's chest.  
"You," one tap, "are in so much trouble." Three taps. "The master has been yelling for you and about you since a letter arrived." The footman grinned. "Any idea what's occurring?"  
Jake feigned horror and shook his head. The footman sneered.  
"Liar. You always know what's going on around here. You're the master's pet. Think you're above us."  
The footman walked a couple of steps away. Jake turned but not before he heard the murmur, _selfish bastard_  
Jake closed his eyes for a second to let it wash away. He couldn't help the flash of insight that didn't even crystallise into words in his head, that he wished he worked at the Manor.

Marcus glared when Jake opened his study door and went in.  
"Did you need me for something? I apologise for my absence, you sent me into town to get a _suit that isn't that heap of rags_ if you remember, sir?"  
Marcus blinked, his face softening.  
"Huh, I did say that. Heh heh. I assume you found something? You got measured properly this time? No skimping and pocketing the change?"  
Jake affected his very best shocked expression.  
"Marcus! How can you accuse me--"  
"Oh hush, I know you do it. Heh. I would do the same. Come here. Sit."  
Jake made for the chair opposite Marcus's desk. Marcus shook his head and patted the stool bedside him.  
"I want you right here."

Jake perched on the stool and let Marcus stroke his hair.  
"Heh. Remember I nearly made you cut your hair and you cried?'  
Jake shuddered. He had been allowed to keep his ringlets when he worked at the bank as long as he constrained them with black ribbon. His employer said it reassured the clients to have _one of your lot_ working visibly on their accounts. On his first day working directly for Vansten, the footman assigned to make sure Jake was well groomed, as a personal assistant should be, handed him shears.  
"Short hair, off the collar, and clean shaven. That's the rule here."

Jake has said thank you, dressed and ignored the shears, tucking his hair back best he could before presenting himself to his new master. Vansten had been unimpressed until Jake, a stranger in a new home, clinging to what little remained of his barely-remembered identity, begged and wept. Vansten had watched silently as Jake broke down, then done something so unexpected Jake wondered for a week if he had made it up.  
Vansten sat on the carpet, hugged his new valet and kissed his forehead.

Jake smiled. "I do remember very well. And I am grateful you relented, sir."  
Marcus nodded. So far he was getting what he wanted.  
"Heh. Make sure your new suit arrives within the week, I want you presentable at my next ball. I may have an announcement to make and I need you by my side looking handsome."  
Jake took a risk. Stomach churning, mouth drying and heart racing, he sneered at Marcus.  
"You want me to gaze at you adoringly while you dance with the eligible young ladies, sir? I am surprised you have not made a wife of one of them yet."  
Marcus laughed and Jake's heart rate reduced.  
"Heh! Adoring glances, yes. Dancing with the ladies, yes. Marriage, no. I do not want a wife snooping through my personal and business affairs."  
Jake smiled.  
"Or whatever. I have you for that. Tell me, Jakey-boy," Marcus patted Jake's thigh. "Why would the parish and the diocese want to put the leadership of the school board in question _now?"_  
Jake looked blank.  
"Sir? I have no idea."

Marcus shuffled a few papers on his desk, pulling out one document bound with ribbon.  
"My contract with that scientist is, again, not to proceed. I have no confidence in a man who cannot make a decision and stick to it. Next time you slip out to the Manor you can pass the message on that I will not seek his partnership again."  
Jake felt his gut tremble and his mouth fill with feathers once more.  
"You suspect I visit the Manor?"  
Marcus smiled and sighed.  
"Jake, Jakey, Jake. I know you do. Is it Sir Carlos or that godless creature who passes as his manservant you are enamoured with? I understand, really I do," Marcus pulled at the ringlets falling from Jake's temples and stroked his olive cheek. "You want to find comfort with someone who will not balk at your heritage."  
Jake bit down bile. He scowled at Marcus, clenched his fists and held his breath.  
"Heh! Got you all riled up, haven't I? Mmm. The thought of Sir Carlos holding you down over his billiards table kept me diverted for ten minutes after lunch. Or did you meet his valet for a fumble in the pantry? Heh, either way it is a most entertaining thought."  
Jake seethed in silence.  
"Heh heh heh, perhaps you have appetite enough for both and nothing left for me. Is that why you resist my advances so persistently?"  
Jake got up and walked out as calmly as he could. He marched, thunder-faced, to his own room and locked the door, leaving the key turned in the keyhole.

Some time later a light tap on his door roused Jake. A voice called to him.  
"Sir wants you in the small dining room."  
Jake called back an acknowledgment, rolled off his bed and examined himself in the mirror. His eyes were no longer red rimmed but he washed his face anyway and pulled his burgundy waistcoat straight before going to meet Marcus. 

Marcus smiled,  
"Ah, Jake my boy, so good of you to attend me. Please, serve for us both and join me for dinner."  
Marcus waved his butler and footman away. They slunk out of the room, smirking at one another. Jake heaped Marcus's plate and served himself after Marcus murmured _I told cook make beef not pork, you should eat more._.  
Jake sat to Marcus's left at the round teak table and forced himself to chew and swallow. 

Marcus talked while he ate, Jake listened for cues that he might have to reply. Eventually Marcus set his silverware down and leaned back in his chair, waving at the crystal and gold wine decanter. Jake stood and poured for him, Marcus took the decanter and poured for Jake too. Jake grit his teeth. It promised to be a long evening unless Jake could persuade Marcus to partake of the imported brandy.

"I would like you to keep me company this evening, Jakeyboy." Marcus did not look at Jake as he walked to the settee opposite the fireplace. "I have some ideas I want to air and I value your opinion."  
Jake followed and sat at the opposite end, placing his wine glass on a table by his elbow. Marcus moved closer to Jake and stretched his arm out along the back of the settee, his hand just behind Jake's neck. Jake leaned forwards, picked up his glass and turned so that his back was in the corner. He crossed his ankle over his knee.  
"What is it, Marcus? New plans?"

Marcus sipped at his wine and smiled.  
"Heh, yes. I may have the interest of a business from out of town. I might offload a few less profitable concerns onto them. They seem to have resources to spare."  
Jake raised his eyebrows.  
"Might I know the name of this out of town concern? I could go out and ask around for you."  
Marcus laughed.  
"Oh Jake, I can't possibly spare you for an out of town trip. No, my boy, you will have to stay here and help with my correspondence with them. They call themselves by an unusual name. I think Mister Strex must be a foreigner."

Jake waited for a casual xenophobic insult that didn't come. Marcus got up, refilled his glass and Jake's, and sat down again a little closer. He touched Jake's knee, a light stroke.  
"Jake, I offended you earlier. I apologise for my comments. I was teasing, you know, only teasing."  
Jake remained silent but watched Marcus's face.  
"Am I forgiven?"

Jake still did not speak. This was a familiar scene to Jake. First insult, then apology, next Marcus would ask how he could make it up to Jake. There would be an embrace, perhaps Marcus would want to pet his hair or kiss his face, sit with Jake in his lap maybe and stroke his thighs.

"Can I make it up to you?"  
Jake sighed.  
"Marcus, I have been thinking--"  
"No!" Marcus looked dismayed. "Have you found another position? With whom? How much are they offering to pay you? I can be quite generous, as you know."  
Jake considered for a few seconds whether it would be wise to negotiate an increase in his salary. He knew the box under the loose floorboard in the corner of his room did not contain enough to see him through a year. But Marcus could be generous with gifts and lost track of them often. Jake decided to wait, play along, sell and save. 

Jake laughed.  
"No, no, Marcus, why should I think of leaving you? You are such a generous master. I get to wear a fancy waistcoat and a cravat. I dine in style with my master instead of at the trough with the other servants. I have your company and your conversation for education and amusement. I thought--"  
Marcus patted his lap. Jake frowned.  
"Come now, don't be so hesitant! There is no one here but us. Jake, sit here and tell me your thoughts while I hold you in my arms."  
Jake slid across the seat and up onto Marcus's lap. Marcus put his arms around Jake's waist and pulled him off balance. Jake leaned in and put an arm around Marcus's shoulders.  
"Mmhmm. That's better. Now," one hand slid to Jake's hip while the other untucked Jake's shirt from his waistband and stroked his bare skin. "Tell me what is in that clever head of yours."  
Jake smiled. He stroked Marcus's jawline with one finger.  
"I thought that people," Jake kissed Marcus's forehead, "young business types," Jake traced his finger over Marcus's lower lip, "would pay to read your memoirs. To find out how you made such a success of your life."

Marcus, eyes closed and head back, smiling at Jake's touch, rubbed Jake's back and stroked his leg from knee to hip. Jake froze but Marcus's hand went no further.  
"Do you think so?"  
Jake resumed stroking Marcus's face.  
"Yes, I am sure of it. You could dictate and I could write. We could spend winter evenings snug in the parlour, you telling me all about your life, in great detail, and me your loyal scribe sitting opposite with pen and ink. Come Summer, your success could be the inspiration for aspiring young gentlemen with the means to start up in business and..." Jake held his breath and kissed Marcus on the lips, the briefest and most calculated of dry touches, "...purchase a leather-bound, gold-embossed volume to guide them to success like yours."

Marcus opened his eyes wide.  
"Heh, you could have something there, Jake, my boy. Huh."  
He frowned and patted Jake's thigh.  
"How do you imagine this literary feat will be accomplished?"  
Jake grinned.  
"Marcus, my dear Marcus. We should begin to plan right away while the idea is fresh and exciting! Come," Jake stood and brushed down his trousers. "I will fetch my writing case. We will sit either side of the fire and we will plan out our evenings for the winter."  
Marcus laughed.  
"Oh, Jake, always so productive. Be assured we will include an evening of leisure together, now and then."  
Jake's smile died on his lips as Marcus got to his feet and held him tight around the waist.  
"Like tonight."


	11. Glycerol and peppermint.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earl and Carlos get closer acquainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can skip this, it's just porn.

A few weeks later the Manor and the village were gripped hard by winter. Nothing moved outdoors that did not need to move for survival. The lavender in the herb garden sheltered under a white blanket while the less hardy rosemary pots lived in the scullery and most others survived as seeds, saved dry and cool in Earl's pantry ready for the spring melt. Sir Carlos was content to allow the Manor House to relax, hide beyond an impassable approach track, secure that the pantry and stores were full enough to feed everyone until spring forced green tendrils above the snow.

The threat of casual visitors receded as the snow line descended, and Sir Carlos could afford to be less careful around his staff. He called Ortiz "Josie" and received no reprimand. He referred to Cardinal as "my dear Dana" and she did not have Erika make his bed so tight he could not get between the sheets. He was free with chaste affection towards his valet and his cook, touching a hand or a cheek in passing and offering quiet endearments. Often Sir Carlos found his mind wandering in search of excuses to go below-stairs or call for Palmer to attend him in his laboratory.

On one sharply cold afternoon Sir Carlos stared at his latest experiment and write down long, complicated equations but his mind drifted to his lovers, imagining what they might be doing, Earl below-stairs in the kitchens or Cecil sorting clothes for mending and asking Erika to bring extra firewood in case Sir wanted an early night. Meanwhile, Harlan and Palmer were actually in the pantry, arms around each other, waiting for Erika's footsteps to recede at Cardinal's call to rekindle the fire under the boiler. Earl sighed.   
"You love him, don't you?"  
Cecil pressed a kiss onto Earl's cheek and murmured in his ear.  
"Mmhmm, I do love him. And I love you."  
Earl smiled and kissed Cecil's lips once.  
"And he loves you too. I barely see you these days!"  
Cecil pulled Earl so close their bodies pressed together. Earl nuzzled and kissed the side of Cecil's neck. Cecil giggled.  
"E-earl! Not in here!"  
Earl leaned back, brought both hands up to cup Cecil's face and kissed his lips, smiles curving their mouths. Cecil stroked Earl's hair with gentle fingers.  
"You should go see him. Tell him. He said he's hardly seen you beyond a quick fumble one night in the hallway after Roger's bedtime. He really likes you."  
"Ugh, Cecil!" Earl dropped his head onto Cecil's shoulder. "Chance would be a fine thing. Sir Carlos never asks for me, he has you. When he's below-stairs Ortiz politely escorts him back above. You have him all night. You help him bathe, dress, you anticipate whatever he wants before he even knows he wants it. He's yours, Ceece. Not mine."   
Cecil held Earl tightly again until Ortiz banged on the pantry door and yelled at them that Sir Carlos's tea tray wasn't going to prepare itself.

Cecil made peppermint tea, wrinkling his nose at the dried leaves, whilst Earl made sandwiches and arranged them on a plate. Cecil picked up the tray and turned, took two steps toward the door and turned back.  
"Earl," Cecil said a little louder than necessary, "I have to attend to the master's laundry. Would you mind carrying his tray up to him?"  
In reply, Earl grinned, took the tray from Cecil and headed for the stairs.   
Cecil called Earl back, unfastened his shirt to halfway and pulled it open just enough for Earl to show a flash of skin when he moved. Cecil nodded.  
"Mmhmmhmm, now you are ready."

By the time Earl reached the laboratory door his confidence had cooled. He balanced the tray on one arm, knocked twice and turned the door handle. Earl slipped into the laboratory quietly and set down the tray. Sir Carlos looked up.  
"Earl! I did not expect to see you! Come sit with me? Have you time?"   
Sir Carlos beamed at his cook, eyes drawn to the visible sliver of skin.   
Earl perched on the chair by the tiny table near the fire. The laboratory was large and one end near the fireplace served Sir Carlos as his parlour, with a small round table, a chair and a low-backed sofa. Sir Carlos sat on the sofa.  
"How are you? Roger is a delight, he comes here for a while with Maureen every day. He helps with my experiments and he is learning to read the names of the chemicals on the shelf."  
"I am well," Earl replied a little stiffly. "Roger tells me about... science."  
"Ah. Well." Carlos dropped his smile and looked away. "Am I keeping you from your work?"

Earl frowned. He sighed. "Sir Carlos, do you regret our encounter?"  
"No!" Carlos's reply was without hesitation. "I wondered if you had second thoughts."  
"Ugh, yes, and third thoughts and fourth thoughts." Earl watched Carlos's right hand grip the arm of the sofa. "But they all reach the same conclusion."  
Carlos's knuckles whitened.  
"And will you share your conclusion?"  
Stomach fluttering, hardly trusting himself to control his limbs, Earl stroked the back of Carlos's hand with one finger. Carlos watched the progress of Earl's forefinger from wrist to knuckles, took Earl's hand in both of his and kissed it. 

Earl remembered to breathe. He reached his free hand up to stroke Carlos's cheek.  
"Sir Carlos, I don't know how to do this with you. I've known Cecil for so long that I just crept into love. I realised one morning as I watched him wake up that I wanted to be with him always. This is different."  
"Perhaps," Carlos wore a nervous smile, "perhaps we have got this all wrong. With Cecil I felt affection grow before desire. With you, aah, I saw you and I wanted things I never thought I could have. I want, I think, I want to know that you want me too."  
Carlos's frown chased away his smile. Earl leaned forwards and looked into Carlos's eyes.  
"I need you to tell me exactly what you want me to do. Sir Carlos, I am yours for the asking."  
Carlos swallowed, unable to break eye contact. "What if I tell you to do something you do not want to do?"  
Earl glanced away and back again at those deep brown eyes surrounded by thick eyelashes.  
"If that happens I will say no."  
Carlos nodded, frown still present. He barely whispered.  
"I want you to kiss me like you mean it."

Earl almost leapt to his feet to meet Carlos. He felt his head spin, a tingle in the pit of his stomach, a weakness in his joints. Earl combed his fingers through Carlos's hair and pulled their faces close. He kissed Carlos's cheek, his jaw, his eyebrow and his lips, soft pressure, waiting for a response. Carlos teased at Earl's lower lip with his tongue. Earl parted his lips and pulled gently at Carlos's upper lip. He giggled. Carlos pulled away.  
"What's wrong?"  
"Nothing," Earl kissed Carlos's lips once more, gently. "Your whiskers tickle. What would you like me to do next, Sir Carlos?"  
Carlos laughed.   
"Sit with me by the fire, kiss me again and let me put my cold hands on your warm skin."

Earl helped Carlos pull the sofa closer to the fireplace. Carlos took his coat off and Earl pulled his suspenders off his shoulders. Carlos sat, patting his knee. Earl straddled Carlos's lap, held his head and kissed him again. Carlos tugged Earl's shirt free of his waistband and slipped both hands inside the rough fabric. Earl felt warm hands stroke up and down his back, around his waist, explore below his waistband. His physical reaction, he thought, surely must be obvious. 

Earl sat up. Carlos's hands rested on Earl's waist. Earl smiled.  
"Anything more I can do for you, Sir Carlos?"  
Carlos's fingers found the remaining buttons of Earl's shirt.  
"I would never ask you to do anything that I was unwilling to do." Carlos leaned forward, hands once more around Earl's back, and kissed his stomach. "Do you understand?"  
Earl nodded, pulled Carlos's tie from his neck and unfastened his waistcoat. Carlos nudged Earl to get up and they both stood, unfastening buttons and pushing eager hands beneath cotton and linen to reach soft skin beneath. Carlos eased Earl's trousers and underwear down to his thighs.  
"Earl, my beautiful Earl, I want to kneel in front of you, take you into my mouth and study the sounds you make when I touch you that way. I want your hands on me, I want to feel your pleasure and see your face lost in bliss and know that I made it happen. Earl, I want--"  
Earl's impatience cut Carlos's eloquence short.  
"Sir Carlos! I want you to tease me with your fingers and your tongue then bend me over, hold me down and fuck me hard until I beg you to give me release."

Carlos walked over to the shelf and picked up a glass bottle and a beaker, setting them down on the bench. He poured from the bottle into the beaker.  
"Glycerol," explained Carlos. "Instead of olive oil."  
He brought the beaker over and set it on the hearth then guided Earl to stand close to the fire. Carlos knelt in front of Earl, looked up at the face smiling down at him and dipped two fingers in the cold glycerol. Carlos took the head of Earl's stiff cock into his mouth and flicked his tongue around it. He eased his slicked fingers around to Earl's entrance and pushed one in while Earl moaned in pleasure.

Carlos did as Earl asked. He teased, sucking and licking and letting go, moving his attention from head to shaft to balls, thrusting first with one finger then with two, twisting his wrist at Earl's suggestion and crooking his fingers. Carlos took as much of Earl into his mouth as he could and held still, pulling out two fingers and inserting three, delighting in the animal noises Earl made, feeling him twitch. Earl grasped two handfuls of Carlos's hair, making Carlos groan around his cock, sending vibrations to his core. Earl pulled back, Carlos thrust his fingers deeper. Earl breathed deep as his cock twitched free in the air.  
"Mmm that was close. Now fuck me hard, Sir Carlos."

Carlos pulled Earl down to his knees on the rug, pushed him face down into the sofa seat and knelt behind him. He teased Earl again with fingers until Earl cursed at him, then slicked his cock and pushed in slowly. Earl thrust back, growling _fuck me, don't hold back!_

Carlos held Earl's hips with one arm, held his head down with the other and moved slowly. Earl, muffled by the cushion, yelled at Carlos _harder! faster!_ and Carlos complied, slamming into Earl with a force that pushed Earl against the sofa and pulled him back with every sharp thrust. Carlos's climax built quickly and soon he was crying out, rhythm broken and panting hard. Carlos rested his head on Earl's back, pushed the tail of Earl's shirt up out of the way and peppered his skin with kisses as he slipped out slowly.

Earl sat back on his heels, knees wide, eyes closed, head down. Carlos pulled Earl's shirt collar so that it slid down his arm. He kissed along Earl's shoulder.   
Earl murmured _I want to come now._  
Carlos kissed Earl's other shoulder, nuzzled into his neck.  
"Right now? I thought you wanted to be teased, to be made to wait."  
Earl groaned. Carlos ran his hands over Earl's chest, guided Earl to turn around, dipped his head and flicked his tongue over Earl's nipples.  
"Aah, Carlos, I swear if you don't... uuungh..."  
Carlos had dipped his head lower and pulled his tongue from the base of Earl's cock to the head, sucked it into his mouth and was swirling his tongue in slow circles around it. He slid one hand up Earl's inner thigh to stroke Earl's balls with his fingertips. Earl gripped Carlos's hair in both fists, let out one warning _gonna..._ and came hard. Carlos stayed where he was until Earl's hand stroked his shoulder. 

Earl laughed at Carlos's expression.  
"I'll pour you some tea, Sir Carlos. It's probably cold but it'll taste better than that."  
Carlos cleaned Earl and himself up, gulped down cool peppermint tea and shook his head.  
"I wasn't prepared for it. I suppose it will be less of a surprise next time. Sit with me?"

Earl and Carlos sat on the sofa. Carlos wrapped his arms around Earl and Earl reclined back against Carlos.   
"I suppose," Carlos sighed, "that you miss Cecil when he is spending time with me."  
"Yes," Earl replied. "I miss falling asleep and waking up with him. I don't think he realises that I... well. I do not want to tell him."  
"Hmm." Carlos stroked his chin. "I will find a solution."

Almost half an hour later Palmer, in search of the tea tray and the cook, found Earl and Carlos half-naked and half-asleep together. He kissed them both awake, took the tray away and casually asked Cardinal which of the unused rooms had the widest bed.


	12. Tellling Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful artwork from http://the-child-from-italy.tumblr.com

Winter released its hold with great reluctance and it was almost April before the snow crept back to the top of the tors where it belonged. The manor eased back into life with a grateful sigh. February and cruel March had seen the occupants cling to the heat of kitchen and laboratory, copper and lead water pipes had long been drained and abandoned for fear of bursts and water came from melted snow or great blocks of ice carved from the lake. Some of the servants chose to sleep below-stairs for fear of freezing in their beds. Others nestled for warmth. Sir Carlos opened his cramped but snug bed chamber to Cecil and Earl and Roger, synchronising their schedules so that late mornings and early nights made the best of what little heat reached them from a pale and distant sun.

Spring flowers poked above sparkling, crystalline re-frozen snow that looked lower every morning. Snowdrops and crocuses showed where the garden walkways lay and a few early narcissi nodded in the sharp breeze from the tops. Harlan the elder, moved into the stable block with his hounds, concluded his business of dispensing advice on lambing to all who cared, or were awake enough from the ewes' exhausting activity, to listen. He returned home along a path now reliably clear to find his son and grandson stacking new firewood and filling his larder.

The snows cleared, the lambs and ewes who lived moved to the upper pasture. The house warmed its chilled limestone with the last of the winter firewood and the first of the spring's true kindness. Trees not quite in leaf, waiting for the days to lengthen and make it worth their while to spread green hands to the heavens, tossed twigs around in expectation of better days.

On such a Spring afternoon, Carlos looked around below-stairs. The coast was clear. The noise from the laundry was only the sound of water hissing into the boiler. The main kitchen was warm but empty, Cardinal was not in her office, Carlos knew Maureen and Roger were making sculptures from the last traces of snow in sheltered spots, and Ortiz was upstairs with her angels and Palmer, preparing with fresh linen, open windows and a fire to drive the damp from the largest bedchamber.

Earl was in the scullery, standing at the wooden preparation table with his back to the door. Sir Carlos watched and smiled, Earl chopped and diced with efficient, rapid movements that played percussion on the wooden surface.

Sir Carlos snuck forwards and clasped his arms around Earl's waist.  
"Fuckme!" Earl jumped, stabbed the knife tip into the wooden board then laughed. "Sir Carlos, I am going to ask Palmer to put tacks in the soles of your boots so you cannot do that."  
Carlos sniggered.  
"I wanted to see you."  
"Oh?" Earl turned to face Carlos. "That's what you wanted, is it now?"  
Carlos nodded. Earl smiled.  
"Now you've seen me. I have to make dinner. You know, chopping, frying, roasting..."  
Carlos shrugged. "I only came to say thank you for a lovely lunch tray. I will stay out of your way."  
Earl turned back to his preparation, grinning.  
"Whatever you say, Sir Carlos."

Earl pulled the knife from the chopping board and resumed work, turning carrots into even round slices. He felt Carlos close behind him, hands on his hips, chin resting on his shoulder, breath on his neck. Earl giggled and held a piece of carrot roughly where he thought Carlos's mouth might be. Carlos sucked, bit and crunched and kissed Earl's neck making him squirm at the prickling sensation then held him close. Earl scooped up the prepared vegetable into a bowl of water and reached across the table for the bowl of scrubbed potatoes. Carlos sniggered and ground against Earl's backside.

"Sir Carlos!" Earl slapped playfully at Carlos's hands, now resting on his stomach. "There's no time. You want everyone's dinner to be late? You have guests, you know."  
Carlos slipped his hands lower, feeling Earl harden at his touch, massaging through layers of fabric.  
"Mmhmm but they will be late too so it does not matter. Anyway, time is only a matter of perception, or so they say. What is time? Nobody knows. We have no time, and we have all the time. Same thing."  
Earl reached his hands behind him, between them. He pulled open Carlos's trouser fastening and slipped a hand inside. Carlos murmured, _pantry?_ but Earl shook his head muttering, _you started it here, we'll finish it here,_ followed by _fuck this isn't going to take long!_ when Carlos slipped his hand inside Earl's underwear.  
Earl came first, arching back against Carlos, then turned, walked Carlos back against the sink, pushed both hands inside his underwear, stroked his cock and massaged his balls until he dropped his head back and breathed out Earl's name.

They both grinned and laughed and turned to wash their hands. From the doorway, Cecil whistled.  
"I wish I had been here a few minutes earlier. If you need me I will be in the pantry for the next few minutes."  
Earl and Carlos glanced at each other and giggled. Neither of them was quite sure who decided they should make it up to Cecil that he had missed out.

Carlos returned to his laboratory for a few hours of science before dinner guests intruded on his privacy. Cecil slipped in at some point to assist until Carlos smiled, hugged, kissed and thanked him, then asked if he would not prefer to sit by the fire and relax in advance of what promised to be a long evening. Late in the afternoon, Maureen tapped on the door and brought Roger to see Carlos. Roger climbed up onto Papa Cecil's lap and demanded a story.

Time spent with Miss Maureen had improved the boy's vocabulary drastically. In private he addressed Papa in Irish, Sir Carlos in Spanish and signed with Papa Cecil, but in company he used English as best he could. Maureen encouraged Cecil's storytelling, Cecil loved to tell stories and, at Roger's insistence, to write them down. Miss Maureen was happy to help Cecil with advice on grammar and punctuation for she found the tales he made up on the spot for Roger to be well plotted and entertaining with unusual choices of vocabulary.

Carlos, a little hurt at being ignored by his ward, walked over and joined them for long enough to stroke Roger's hair and exchange brief pleasantries with Maureen. The governess excused herself and Carlos returned to his work, but listened to Cecil speak.

He loved listening to Cecil tell stories. Cecil had a beautiful, sonorous voice and a way of communicating how his made-up characters felt and thought that made both Roger and Carlos lose themselves in his words. Carlos had considered more than once asking Cecil to tell him a story too late at night, but often when they retired Cecil was beat from such a long day and Carlos did not want to impose.

Carlos giggled and grinned along with Roger when Cecil's voice changed with his characters, from a deep and serious lord to a giggling, boastful dragon and a down-to-Earth princess who clearly did not need to be saved and sounded just a little like Miss Maureen. Roger laughed and expressed the opinion that the only thing better than one dragon in a story was five dragons. Cecil obliged, calling the dragon by a name that made Carlos choke back a snigger.

Twenty minutes after finishing the tale of _Five Headed Hiram the Disagreeable Dragon_ , Cecil dozed on the sofa with Roger fast asleep in his arms. Carlos tiptoed around the laboratory until Maureen returned, red faced and slightly flustered, apologising for being late.  
Carlos put his finger to his lips and pointed at the pair lit by fireglow. Maureen rolled her eyes and whispered, _I'll never get him to sleep all night now! I apologise for my tardiness, Cardinal needed me for... assistance with a personal matter in the nursery._  
Carlos smiled and nodded, but chose not to comment that he often required the attention of either his valet or his cook for assistance with personal matters and would be quite happy if Palmer was unable to sleep all night.

Reluctantly, Carlos woke Cecil up. Maureen scooped Roger into her arms and took him away for supper with his father then bed. Cecil stretched, warmed by the fire and still drowsy. Carlos laughed and sat beside his valet, leaned against him and sighed.  
"I do not want to have to entertain this evening."  
Cecil stroked Carlos's face. Cecil kissed Carlos's fingers as they passed over his lips.  
"Perhaps Vansten will cancel. I admit I am surprised that he wants to come here again, he must need something from you."  
Carlos sighed.  
"I both hope and dread that he brings his assistant with him. Jake. I would like to know that Vansten has not driven him to drastic action. I wish that it were possible for him to find safer employment."  
Cecil gave a soft laugh.  
"I believe Jake is safe. Vansten is an odious pig who would abuse his position and call it strength but Jake is not an innocent, he admitted to me that he exchanges his affections for gain. Hmm. Jake may have a few uncomfortable encounters with his master but he holds the key to Vansten's ruin. I wonder, in his position would I be so reluctant to use it?"

Carlos wriggled his arms around Cecil's waist and frowned into his shoulder.  
"If my advances are ever uncomfortable or unwelcome--"  
Cecil laughed and kissed Carlos's head.  
"Advances would be a very welcome diversion, Sir Carlos my love. It has been a... hard winter being in such close quarters with yourself and Earl, yet being unable to express my affections as I would like for fear of upsetting the household with our unnatural acts of complete and utter physical rapture."  
Carlos laughed.  
Cecil, my sweet Cecil, I do not think the household much cares."  
Cecil smiled and lifted Carlos's chin for a kiss.  
"Mmm. Tonight, let Roger sleep in the nursery with Miss Maureen and Cardinal, and you and Earl and I can have our first night together without too many elbows and knees in a confined space. Your new chamber might be ready."  
Carlos pushed himself up and kissed Cecil's lips.  
"Mmhmm, I bet you both fall soundly asleep within seconds."  
Cecil laughed and excused himself to go prepare Sir Carlos's evening wear. Carlos pouted but watched him leave with a smile. Science struggled to hold Sir Carlos's attention for the remainder of the afternoon. He closed his notebook and headed upstairs.

Cecil called Carlos through to the washroom. He had set out a bowl and a chair, shaving soap, a comb, scissors and a cutthroat razor. Carlos scratched his chin.  
"Is it so bad? I will feel cold without."  
Cecil laughed.  
"Sir Carlos, Roger asked me to tell him a story about a growly bear who was also a scientist yesterday."  
Carlos grinned. "I suppose I have let it grow. Perhaps trim it a little and shape it?"  
Cecil smiled and pointed to the chair. Carlos removed his coat and shirt before he sat.  
"Whatever you say, Sir Carlos."

Cecil worked carefully, combing and trimming before working the shaving soap into a lather. Carlos felt cool, steady fingers at his throat followed by the cold blade as it scraped up his neck. He relaxed, eyes closed, letting Cecil tilt his head to the side or backwards so that he could return Sir Carlos's whiskers to a fashionable condition.

Cecil made a sudden movement.  
"Oh. Oh dear. Um."  
Carlos felt unexpected cold on his skin. Cecil put a hand on his shoulder briefly and stepped back.  
"Um, Sir Carlos?"  
Carlos sat up and half-turned to see Cecil's worried expression.  
"Did you cut me? I didn't feel it."  
Cecil shook his head slowly, sucking his bottom lip between white teeth.  
"No. Um, have you ever considered..." Cecil poured out the next few words, rapid and ending on a squeak, "...shavingoffyourbeardcompletely?"

Carlos burst out of his chair and over to the mirror. He lifted the cloth cover and stared, turning his head this way and that, frowning.  
"Carlos, I am so sorry! I was distracted thinking about... things. My hand slipped."  
Carlos caught sight of Cecil's downcast reflection in the small mirror.  
"Ugh. There is no way of saving it, I see. Ceece, how did you manage to lop off such a large swathe of facial hair without accidentally removing half of my nose?" Carlos took Cecil's hand and smiled. "Fine, I will be clean shaven tonight. Fortunately my beard grows quickly."

Carlos sat, closed his eyes and felt the strange combination of a razor on his chin, cheeks and lip followed by numb loss of sensation from the movement of hairs that no longer covered his skin. Cecil, safely unobserved, grinned and suppressed a snigger. Once Carlos was shaved and dried, Cecil led him back to the main part of his chamber to dress him for dinner. Cecil stood close to Carlos, pulling his crisp shirt up his arms and over his shoulders, flinging a warm red tie around his neck before buttoning from the bottom up. Halfway through, feeling Cecil's breath on his chest, Carlos brought a hand to Cecil's chin, tilted his head up and leaned in to a kiss.

Marcus was, as usual, late. But since he and Jake were the only guests it did not inconvenience anyone at all. Carlos had the table set for four and invited Cecil to take a seat beside him. Cecil frowned at this blurring of his roles, shook his head and removed the fourth place setting. Carlos put his disappointment aside, assuming his valet's loathing of Vansten was to blame, and concentrated on his guests waiting in the billiards room.

Vansten had much to say over his Irish Stew. Carlos listened to stories from Vansten's early life and asked polite questions until boredom got the better of him and he asked directly if Vansten needed something from him.  
"Heh, heh. Trust an interloper such as yourself to forget local manners. Upton hasn't seen the like of you before. Whatever, I want you to give me details of your publisher and an introduction to smooth matters. You do have one, don't you?"  
Carlos smiled in relief at the chance of a change in subject.  
"Have you written a book, Marcus? A novel, perhaps? Or a pamphlet on business?"  
Marcus laughed.  
"Hehheh no!" He patted Jake's arm and smiled at his assistant. "Jake here took a fancy to write my memoirs. We have spent many evenings all cozy by the fire while he diligently took dictation."  
Carlos risked a glance at Jake, who smiled at the ceiling.  
"That was an excellent idea. Let me get you my agent's card, although I warn you that publishing houses need manuscripts to be thoroughly checked for consistency and quality before they will consider publishing. This is a time consuming process and you will see little of Jake as he redrafts your manuscript, if you desire literary fame."  
Jake caught Carlos's eye and smiled his thanks as Marcus huffed, _"may as well buy the damn printing house"_

After dinner, billiards and port, Carlos walked Marcus to the door as Jake excused himself and darted through the hidden doorway that led to the back stairs. Ortiz waited with Erika, holding coats and hats. Marcus was in good spirits.  
"Exciting times, Sir Carlos, exciting, heh, times. I have made some wise investments with a very productive up and coming business. Heh, if you want in, or whatever, I could--"  
Carlos laughed. Ortiz helped Marcus into his coat, Erika looked around for Jake.  
"I am not a businessman, Marcus, I am a scientist."  
"No, no, I know, but I can get you an introduction. I am sure they need science for something." Marcus scratched his head, "Although I am at a loss to think what. They are called _Strex and son,_ big over in Milltown, big owners, very, you know, productive."  
Carlos thought he saw Ortiz and Erika stiffen and exchange a look, but the moment passed and Marcus yelled for Jake to _leave that heathen alone_ take him home.

Sir Carlos dismissed the servants for the night and headed to his laboratory for a last look around before bed. The laboratory was not empty.  
"Sir Carlos."  
"Miss Maureen! Are you well? Is something wrong with Roger?"  
Maureen shook her head.  
"No. May I... May I speak with you on a... personal matter?"  
Carlos frowned at the young lady sitting in the armchair.  
"Surely Ortiz or Cardinal would be a better confidante than--"  
Carlos was silenced by the bark of Maureen's laughter.  
"Oh, no, the matter is personal but not to me. I did speak with Da... Cardinal first but she directed me to you. She said, and I quote, _Oh glowing clouds, Sir Carlos is surely going to want to see that."_  
Maureen stared at her hands.  
"So here I am."  
"Yes," Carlos sat on the sofa. "Scientifically that is undeniable. You are here."

Maureen chewed over a few seconds of silence then appeared to make up her mind with a deep breath.  
"Sir Carlos, you are aware that Palmer, your valet, tells Roger fantastical stories and writes them down for him sometimes?"  
Carlos nodded.  
"Yes, he is a good storyteller. I love to listen."  
Maureen nodded.  
"That is true. I help edit his rough drafts and neaten the writing enough that Roger can use them for reading practice."  
Carlos smiled. "I know. He has shown me some tales with his own illustrations. Ce... Palmer is a talented man."  
Maureen scratched at her fingers.  
"Are you aware that he also writes stories that are... decidedly unsuitable for young eyes?"  
"Oh!" Carlos laughed. "He does get carried away and makes some of his stories a little frightening from time to time."  
Maureen shook her head and scowled.  
"That is not what I meant! He wrote something, he asked me to edit and redraft for him, and this is not part of my job. I will do it for Roger's tales but... but not for this."

Carlos took the papers Maureen thrust at him before she swept out of the room. He smoothed the pages, smiled at the spidery scrawl, brought the lamp closer and began to read.


	13. What Happens in Florence...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cecil's art history hateship came about because of a discussion about the Sistine Chapel with the-child-from-italy
> 
> I should add that a great deal of the ideas for storlines in this fic have come from "what if..." discussions with others! Thank you all - collaborative chatting has made this a lot more fun to write, and hopefully more fun to read.

Leonardo banged on the side door of the house, beneath the covered passeggiata. His companion struggled slightly in the morning heat of a day that promised to be too hot to work, and under the weight of his master's equipment. The door opened and the men, older and younger, entered.  
"You know what you are to do?" asked the servant who admitted them to the cool interior of the building. "Master Lorenzo is absent but will return this afternoon. He has hired a second artist to help complete the work in time for the celebrations."

Leonardo stopped in his tracks, causing his assistant to walk into him and drop one of his many bags.  
"Another artist?" Leonardo swallowed, narrowed his eyes and glared. "Might I ask _which_ other artist?"  
The servant shrugged and walked away, still talking.  
"Some sculptor the master took a fancy to. Name of Michel-something-or-other. He arrived an hour before you did."  
Leonardo groaned. 

"Leo?" the assistant asked. "Who is Michel?"  
Leonardo scowled at the man, barely older than a boy.  
"The ass is called Michelangelo and he think's he's God's gift to women, men and art. Pay him no heed. Do not speak with him. Do not even look at him, Giacomo."  
"Ooh," the lad grinned and tossed his ringlets out of his eyes with a flick of his head. "You used my Sunday name. That means you're serious."

The boy picked up his master's bags and trotted after him to the great ballroom. Sure enough, a young man sat on a stepladder, carefully drawing outlines in charcoal. He turned at the sound and waved.  
"Buongiorno! Leo my old friend, you would not believe how happy it makes me to be working alongside you on this frieze."  
Leonardo snapped. "Shut your mouth, Michel, I have not forgiven you for your loud comments about Florentines and speculation about my private life within earshot of the Bishop. You almost lost me a commission."  
"Haha," Michelangelo pointed his charcoal at Leonardo. "And I almost won it from you. If only you had been staring at your pretty-boy's nether regions a little more obviously during Mass."

Leonardo bristled with rage. He yelled, causing young Giacomo to jump and Michelangelo to roar with laughter.  
_"How dare you!"_  
"Oh come, come Leo. Let us work in harmony on this gaudy wall decoration. Then, come the ball, everyone will stare in wonder at the marvellous figures here..." Michelangelo waved his hand at the area he had started, "...and the finger daubs there." He pointed at the end Leonardo would paint.  
Leonardo sneered.  
"We will see about that when the work is complete. At least people looking at my depictions of women can believe I have actually seen one naked."  
Michelangelo's eyes roved over the man-boy's face. He smiled.  
"uh-huh?"  
Leonardo turned to his assistant.  
"Salai? Be careful as you take out my equipment."  
Michelangelo snorted. 

The remainder of the first hour passed in uneasy truce. Michelangelo irritated Leonardo by whistling and singing bawdy songs whilst he worked, jokingly sketching figures with large private dimensions and pointing them out to Salai, pointing to his own trousers and giving a satisfied smirk and a nod. Salai sniggered. Eventually Leonardo snapped.  
"You are such a crude, infantile, ass, Michel. Everyone has seen your sculpture with the shrunken cock and knows you used yourself as a model."  
Leonardo held up his little finger and crooked it. Michelangelo whistled and winked at Salai. He addressed the boy and inclined his head at Leonardo.  
"There's still life in that old dog then?"

Leonardo scowled at Michelangelo.  
"I have nothing to prove. My art is known for its fine quality and lasting appeal. Yours? Huh. that ugly figurine you threw up will be broken up and used as builders' rubble within your own lifetime. Waste of marble."

Michelangelo reddened, held his breath and turned his attention back to the plaster in front of him. The sparring artists worked in heavy silence, observed only by the young Salai, until the servant reappeared with refreshments.

Leonardo put a hand on Salai's shoulder, looked into his eyes, and said, "Remember what I told you."  
Salai nodded and smiled, watching his master and tutor stride away. Michelangelo waited until he was sure Leonardo was out of earshot. He smiled at the youngster.  
"So... Salai. That is an unusual name. How came you by it?"  
"Oh," Salai laughed. "When I was younger I stole from Leonardo very often. He always forgave me but called me his little devil. Salai."

Michelangelo put his arm around Salai's shoulders.  
"Is he kind to you, Salai? Does he kiss you and tell you how pretty you are?"  
Salai frowned. Michelangelo was not finished.  
"Oh I am sure he must do. You have such a beautiful, fine-featured face. I bet he asks to paint you."  
The boy nodded.  
"And," Michelangelo went on, stroking a fingertip across Salai's eyebrow and along his jaw, "I would like to paint you into my part of this work. Come with me."  
Michelangelo led Salai over to the wall.  
"Look, here, see this reclining nude? I would very much like it if you would consent to model for it. Later, when your tutor has given up for the day."

"Salai! Come here."  
Leonardo's voice rang out. Salai shrugged out of Michelangelo's arms and jogged over to Leonardo.  
"Leo? Michel-whatsit said I..."  
Leonardo held Salai close.  
"I heard what he said. Salai, you cannot trust that man. He is a snake. Go home and attend to your work there. I want to see progress on your portrait work when I return."  
Salai nodded, cast a glance back at Michelangelo, who winked at him. Salai kissed Leo once on each cheek and once on the lips, and was gone.

Leonardo marched over to Michelangelo and waved a finger at him.  
"Trying to seduce my pupil? That is low, even for such as you. Shame on you."  
Michelangelo sniffed.  
"But no shame on you, eh?"  
Leonardo growled. "I do not make him empty offers or promises I do not intend to keep."  
Michelangelo laughed. "Good for you, man! But you're a true Florentine. So you do fuck him. Or try to, I bet you can't keep your easel up for long enough."

Leonardo gripped tight to the charcoal and chalk in his hands. His voice was suddenly low and threatening.  
"How dare you."  
Michelangelo ignored the change in tone, feeling excitement grow in his belly and make him reckless.  
"I only wanted to show him what a young man could do for him that an old man like you could not. Can you blame me? He is a very pretty young thing. I am sure I have seen his face in your paintings. Maybe more than just his face."

Michelangelo made a crude hand gesture at Leonardo. Leonardo shook with rage. He lectured Michelangelo, taking a tiny step forward and gesticulating with every word.  
"You think an _old man_ like me can't give a younger man pleasure? You are so very wrong. I could show you a few things experience has taught me that your deficient education has missed, I would--"  
Michelangelo walked forward to meet Leonardo red face to red face. He grabbed hold of Leonardo's forearms and issued a challenge.  
"Do it then, man!"

Leonardo twisted Michelangelo's arm and pushed him back, grabbing the dish of oil that the servant had brought with bread. Michelangelo tripped and fell, landing on his back. Leonardo pinned him down.  
"You want this face up or face down?"  
Michelangelo groaned.  
"Fuck me face down. You're no oil painting!"

Leonardo let Michelangelo go long enough for the younger man to loosen his breeches, turn and kneel facing away from Leonardo. Leonardo slicked his fingers and his cock with oil and pushed his forefinger deep into his adversary's fundament, crooking and feeling around until Michelangelo gasped.  
Leonardo snorted.  
"You like that? You surprised an old man like me can still find what makes you want to cry out my name?"  
Leonardo removed his finger from Michelangelo and entered him with two instead. He twitched and fluttered his fingers, stretching and exploring, opening his fingers and twisting his hand.

Michelangelo moaned and begged for more. Leonardo laughed.  
"Ha, Michel, there's so much more coming your way."  
With three fingers, Michelangelo almost met his petite mort and Leonardo held back, pulled his fingers almost out and kept still. Michelangelo pushed back, seeking deeper contact, aching for penetration and the heavenly relief of release. 

Leonardo sniggered, pushed back in and withdrew.  
"You want this, don't you? You little fucking harlot. You want me."  
Michelangelo nodded.  
"Yes, YES! I want you. Come on, LEO!"  
Leonardo smiled.  
"I want to see you beg for my cock. Get on your back."  
Michelangelo turned, lifting his hips to let Leonardo's fingers tease at him again. Leonardo hoisted Michelangelo's legs up onto his shoulders and lined his cock up to the younger artist's hole.  
"You want me to do this?"  
"YES! Oh, Leo, come ON! I... I want you in me. I'm begging you to fuck me. Show me everything you can do!"

Leonardo grinned, closed his eyes and thrust deep into Michelangelo. He flexed his hips, slow at first then harder and faster, listening to Michelangelo's cries and whimpers. He felt himself close, if he were to change the angle just a little, thrust deep and hard and a little slower, but he had another matter to attend to. Leonardo held himself back from that edge, biting at his lip, and clasped a hand around Michelangelo's hard cock. 

A few strokes and Michelangelo spilled with a cry of _Ah-ah Le-o Le-o Leee-oh!_  
The tightening of Michelangelo's rings around Leonardo's cock sent him spiralling into an abyss of pleasure.  
Leonardo withdrew slowly and handed Michelangelo a cloth soaked in water from their lunch tray. 

Leonardo punched Michelangelo on the arm.  
"Now we have that lesson out of the way, perhaps we should get on with the commission."  
Michelangelo laughed and got to his feet slowly.

In the viewing gallery halfway down the ballroom, Master Lorenzo turned to his servant and smiled.  
"Now THAT is why I always hire them both to turn up on the same day."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carlos read the manuscript again, folded it in quarters, stuffed it in his pocket, extinguished the oil lamp and bounded upstairs. He burst into his bedchamber.  
"PALMER!"

Carlos got almost to the centre of the room before he noticed that the grate was cold, the room was silent and the bed was bare. He rolled his eyes and swore. He walked at a more sedate pace to the room two doors to the left, the master bedchamber that he had refused when he arrived because it was far too large for a solitary scientist. He let himself in, clicked the door closed behind him and took a deep breath.  
"Ceece?"

Earl poked his head around the corner where the dressing room lay.  
"Sir CarlOOOH! Ooooh."  
Carlos looked down at himself while Earl stared and grinned.  
"What?"  
Earl walked forward, never taking his eyes off Carlos's face. He reached out his hand and stroked Carlos's bare cheek and chin.  
"You let him shave it off! He thought you wouldn't. Mmm."  
Earl kissed Carlos on both cheeks and trailed more light kisses along his jaw. Carlos laughed. He clasped Earl around the waist and kissed his lips.  
"Did you hate my facial hair so much?"  
Earl looked at the corners of the room and finally settled his eyes back on Carlos.  
"I didn't much like the feel of it and Roger was a bit scared of you."  
Carlos frowned and let go. Earl took a step back.  
"Oh, he knows you'd never hurt him. I asked why he didn't come to you for comfort like he does with me and Papa Cecil, and he said your beard made him feel funny."

Carlos sat on the bed. Earl smiled, leaned down and kissed his cheek again.  
"Ceece won't be long. He went below stairs. Said he had to check something in the laundry but I think he's raiding the pantry."  
Carlos sighed and produced Cecil's manuscript. He handed it to Earl.  
"Have you seen this?'  
Earl shook out the pages and moved closer to the lamp. He peered at the paper. Carlos frowned.  
"Can you read it?"  
Earl scowled.  
"Of course I can fucking read it. I'm Irish, not uneducated."  
"That's not what I meant!" Carlos snapped. "I mean can you see it, can you make out the handwriting."  
"Oh." Earl handed the paper back. "Cecil's penmanship is poor but you have to admit, the man tells a good story."

Carlos sat in silence. Earl watched him for a moment.  
"Sir Carlos, I don't understand silences or hints. Tell me."  
"Cecil asked Maureen to edit this."  
Carlos's quiet pensiveness was broken by Earl's laughter.  
"Oh! Oh that's... haha, I can imagine Miss Maureen the gentlewoman governess starting to read it out, complaining to Cardinal about whether it was historically accurate, then getting to the bit where... hahaha!"  
Earl rubbed a hand in Carlos's hair. Carlos still frowned.  
"You think no harm is done?"  
Earl shook his head.  
"No. Miss Maureen is not fond of Cecil. He sends her on pointless errands, she retaliates. I'd stand well clear."  
"I shouldn't intervene?"  
"My pa says if you try to get between two fighting dogs they'll both bite you. You know what I think we should do?"  
Earl waved the paper at Carlos. Carlos shrugged and shook his head.  
"We," Earl sat beside Carlos, tucked the paper back into Carlos's coat pocket and put an arm around his shoulders, "should ask Cecil to read his story aloud to us."

At that moment Cecil arrived, coat off and over-shirt unfastened revealing his tight undershirt. Carlos and Earl looked up and giggled. Cecil looked down at himself.  
"What? What have I done? Oh is it the colour? Maureen slipped a beetroot into my last boil-wash because I sent her to get orange marmalade from Carlsberg's Stores. She was gone for hours."  
Earl recovered his composure enough to reassure Cecil that there was nothing wrong with his blotchy pink undergarment. Cecil hung his jacket and offered Carlos a hand to rise. Carlos grinned as Cecil helped him out of his evening suit, shaking out the creases before hanging it up to air.

Earl tried his very best to communicate with Carlos via a series of eye movements and head tilts. Carlos nodded.  
"Ceece, honey, I think I left something in one of my pockets. Would you check for me? I know you hate it when I leave things in my pockets."  
Cecil opened his eyes wide and inclined his head.  
"Mmhmm! It stretches the fabric. Makes the garment look all wrong. Let me see..."  
Cecil felt one pocket then another. Earl sniggered as paper rustled and Carlos carefully avoided eye contact. Cecil held up the paper.  
"What's this? Where do you want me to file it? Personal, business or science?"  
"Actually," Carlos stared at the ceiling, "I would very much like for you to read it." Earl lay back and stuffed a pillow over his face. Carlos smirked at Cecil. "Aloud, if you please."

Cecil shrugged at Carlos then unfolded the paper, angling it towards the lamp. His eyebrows raised and his eyes opened wide. Cecil appeared to forget to move or breathe for a moment.  
"Wh... where did you get this!" Cecil looked from Carlos to Earl and back again. "Earl, did you... you KNOW I don't want you reading my... um... stories until at least the second draft! Maureen hadn't even..."  
Carlos didn't notice but Earl watched realisation dawn. Cecil laughed.  
"Maureen! I'll wager she came to see you, prim and gentlewomanly, not meeting your eyes, _Oh Sir Carlos, a governess should not have to put up with this!_ " 

Carlos laughed and hugged Cecil. Earl sat up and threw the pillow behind him. Cecil dropped the paper into the waste basket and got on with the part of his job he looked forward to every night: undressing Sir Carlos and putting him to bed. Earl watched, envious of the care Cecil took of Carlos. Cecil smiled over Carlos's shoulder at Earl as he turned Carlos and eased his dress shirt down his arms. Earl noted Carlos's smile and closed eyes, and smiled in response. Earl stood.  
"You next?" asked Cecil.  
Earl nodded.  
"Then you," Carlos's smile widened. "Earl and I will undress you, paying attention to all the details. It will be very scientific."  
Cecil laughed.  
"That will be very pleasant."  
"Yes," replied Carlos. "And then you will read your story to us."  
"If you like," Earl added, "Carlos and I can act it out for you."  
Cecil laughed, retrieved his writing an smoothed out the pages.


	14. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has a bad night.

Spring provided clear nights and frost-patterned windows well into May. Clear skies provided warm afternoons but after sundown temperatures fell quickly without a cloud blanket to insulate the earth. On one moonless night Roger took to questioning Carlos, pulling him by the hand, outdoors into the pitch dark garden, pointing up at the sky.  
"Papa Carlos, lo son los llamados?"  
Roger stared expectantly at Carlos, breath puffing clouds into the air. Carlos smiled and pointed up too.  
"Esos son estrellas! Creo que son bastante."  
Roger nodded.  
"¿Qué están haciendo?"  
Carlos shrugged and shook his head.  
"Nadie lo sabe."  
Roger frowned.  
"Sr. Carlsberg dice que le muestran cosas."  
Carlos laughed and took Roger's hand.  
"Come back inside, Roger, and don't tell Papa Cecil you've been listening to Carlsberg!"

Roger ran back into the warmth of the kitchen where Earl scooped him up, turned him upside down and swung him around until they both had to stop to let their wheezing pass, Roger's from giggling and Earl's from exertion. Carlos watched and grinned. Maureen loomed in the doorway.  
"Earl! He will be awake for hours now you have got him all wound up. How am I supposed to get the boy settled for his bedtime story when you've got him running around like a wild thing?"  
Earl and Carlos avoided looking at each other at the mention of _bedtime story._ Earl offered his arms out to Roger, who clamped around him in a tight hug. He smiled at Maureen.  
"Ah he's fine, Miss Maureen. I'm sure he'll be sleepy after some hot milk and a story from Papa."

Earl set Roger on his feet and went to the larder for milk. Roger put his arms out to Carlos. Carlos sank to his knees and hugged Roger.  
"You want Papa Cecil to tell you a story?"  
Roger shook his head.  
"Papa Carlos. Story about estrellas."  
Carlos beamed. Earl grinned over his shoulder from the range where he was heating milk with honey for Roger. Earl caught Maureen's eye.  
"Maureen? If you want Roger to sleep hand me the bottle of cooking brandy from the pantry."  
Maureen scowled.  
"You want your boy brought up like a gentleman or dragged up like you?"  
"I'm only fooling," Earl sighed and winked at Carlos. "Roger prefers Papa Cecil's special Armagnac."  
Carlos tutted and shook his head, but smiled. Maureen rolled her eyes. Roger released Carlos and sat on a stool at the place he considered his at the preparation table. Earl set a chipped, earthenware bowl in front of Roger and watched as the boy picked it up with two hands and sipped.

Carlos, Maureen and Earl chatted quietly as Roger drank his milk. Roger listened in but did not catch many of the words. He liked words. He liked words his Papas said to him gently and with a laugh. He liked Papa Carlos now there was nothing about papa's face to make him afraid, then confused because he did not understand his fear, then guilty because Miss Maureen said he should be grateful to Papa Carlos.  
Roger decided he liked Miss Maureen's voice, especially when she told him what a clever boy he was for learning to read new words. He liked Papa Carlos's voice because he learned interesting things from listening to it. He liked Papa Cecil's voice because it made him laugh.  
He liked Papa Earl's voice the best. He didn't know how to explain it, but Papa Earl's voice was the first one that made him feel safe.

Roger swirled the sweetened milk around, sloshing a little onto the table. He mopped it up with his sleeve then sipped at what remained in his bowl. He focused his eyes on the froth on the surface of his milk, swirling it one way then the other, watching patterns change, imagining it was some kind of magic potion like in one of Papa Cecil's stories. Roger smiled, eyes unfocused, thinking about what he would like a magic potion for, what spells he would cast, all the while listening to the low murmur of voices he loved.  
The voices dropped into heavy silence. 

Maureen smiled and pointed, finger over her lips. Carlos and Earl turned to see Roger fast asleep with his head on the table and his hand on his bowl. Maureen made a face at the damp stain on Roger's sleeve that promised to stink if left, and lifted him gently to carry him to bed.

Roger woke up warm and confused and breathing heavily, nightshirt damp and clinging to his limbs, the noise of his dreams still in his ears and fear still making him freeze and tremble. He blinked at the gloom, the room lit by the evil orange-red glow of the embers in the little fireplace in the corner of the room. He closed his eyes, screwed them tight shut and wished. He wished and wished and forced his his arms to uncurl from where they clung to his bedclothes, hugging sheet and blankets to his chest. Slowly, trying not to move lest his motion be detected by the monsters that surely waited and watched for unwary children, he slipped a hand under himself and felt the sheet below him. It was only damp from sweat.

Roger considered his options. Monsters, he knew, would not see him if he moved so slowly that their multiple eyes would think he was a statue. They would not catch him if he was fast, and he could run like the rabbits Old Pa hunted with his hounds. He planned. He could creep into Miss Maureen's room and curl up at the end of her bed, but she would bring him back to his own bed as soon as he fell asleep again and tell him lies that he was a big boy and there were no such things as monsters. Roger had tried to tell her that there were monsters, angry ones with fur on their faces and great booming voices and thick arms with hands that ended in yellow claws that could lash out at small boys. He had seen them for himself although he barely remembered more than the fear of being seen.

Or there was his and Papa Cecil and Papa Earl's old room, but that was upstairs and he didn't want to get in trouble with Erika again. Papa Carlos's room was two doors away and across the hall. Roger took a deep breath, then another. He could do it. He could creep past the monsters, dart down the hall and into Papa Carlos's room. The monsters would never dare go in there. Papa Carlos had _science_ to keep the monsters at bay.

Roger pulled aside his protective covering of blankets slowly and sat up, listening for the sounds of monsters snuffling and retching, talons scraping on the floor, growling and groaning.  
Nothing. 

He eased his feet down, anticipating a clawed fist around his ankle as soon as his bare feet touched cold floorboard.  
Nothing.

He stood, desperate to pull his nightshirt off his itchy arms and legs and back but not daring to waft the once-white fabric in case the movement alerted the monster hiding in the shadows by the wardrobe to the fact that he was awake when he should not be. He stood completely still, barely even breathing, for a full minute.  
Nothing.

So, so careful, so slow, knowing that the third floorboard from the wall would betray him with a creak, Roger crept to the door. He stood, silent, hand on the brass doorknob, eyes closed and forcing his breath out slowly through his nose. It must be right behind him, calloused, clawed hand about to grip his shoulder. He trembled and let out the smallest whimper.  
Nothing.

Roger pulled the door open sharply and pelted across diagonally to Papa Carlos's room. He pushed the door open and stumbled inside. The warm emberglow bathed Papa Carlos's hearth with soft light. The last crackles of of shifting charcoals from the grate spoke friendly welcomes. Roger pulled at his nightshirt, standing safely by the fire screen like Papa Earl and Papa Cecil showed him the first time he had woken soaked and crying, and let his night clothes dry. 

Papa Carlos was asleep. Papa Carlos was snoring. Roger stifled a giggle with a yawn and closed his eyes for a few seconds. His head drooped and he almost fell. He padded over to the end of the bed. Papa Carlos lay on his back with a hand by his head, chest making the blankets rise and fall in time with his grunts and whistles. Roger giggled and looked around. There was a chair near the fire. He sat, pulled his feet up under himself and rested his head back. 

Three minutes later, Roger stood and shook out his legs, scowling at the tingling of pins and needles in his skin. He stamped over to the side of the bed away from Papa Carlos, checked that Papa hadn't moved, and clambered under the blankets. He lay awake, comfort and warmth overpowering his fear of disgracing himself by wetting Papa's bed in his sleep. He felt, somehow, that even if it happened, just like Papa Cecil and Papa Earl, Papa Carlos would forgive him.

Roger woke again with a cry, noise in his head, fear robbing him of thought. Grey light crept into the room from around the heavy curtains. He shivered in the dawn cold. He remembered feelings rather than the substance of his dreams.  
Fear. Panic. Confusion.  
And finally, reassurance, safety, comfort.  
A voice murmured close to him, repeating the same few words over and over, quiet and calm. Roger listened.  
_"Usted está seguro aquí."_  
He turned to face Papa Carlos, face wrinkled from where his cheek lay on a crease in the pillowcase. Papa smiled.  
_"Papa Cecil estará aquí pronto. Tuviste una pesadilla."_  
Roger frowned. Whatever that was, it sounded bad but Papa would make it better.

Cecil opened the door slowly. He liked to wake Carlos with a kiss then coffee. He set the tray down and tiptoed over to the bed. Cecil took in the sight, staring with eyebrows up and an _oh!_ on his lips, then tiptoed back out of the bedchamber to fetch Earl, shushing him all the way along the passage.  
Earl grinned at the sight of Roger fast asleep with his head on Papa Carlos's shoulder, facing outwards, two pale thin arms wrapped around Carlos's thick forearm.  
Cecil and Earl slipped out of the room. Earl laughed.  
"I dare say a lie in will not harm anyone."


	15. Perfect and Beautiful Hair - a prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene from before chapter 1: 
> 
> Sir Carlos and Palmer have a weekly ritual.  
> Palmer wishes it was more frequent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a prompt from Cosleia:  
> Cecearlos - Having their hair washed by the other

This was a ritual Sir Carlos had a sneaking suspicion his valet enjoyed more than the man was prepared to admit. It happened every Saturday morning, after the range down in the spacious kitchen had been alight for long enough that the back boiler he designed himself and hired builders to install had filled the storage tank with water warm enough for the purpose. 

Every Saturday, Palmer woke Sir Carlos with coffee and operated the hand pump that spurted tolerably hot water into the large bathtub in what used to be Sir Carlos's dressing room. Today followed the same routine as every other Saturday since he arrived at the Manor a few months ago. Sir Carlos sipped coffee until he was fully awake and listened to Palmer humming to himself as he prepared his master's bath. Carlos smiled and stretched and got out of bed before he could persuade himself that an extra few minutes in the warmth of his nest would make no difference to his day.

Palmer smiled.  
"Good morning, Sir Carlo-os! Did you sleep well?"  
Carlos nodded.  
"Mmhmm, very well thank you, Palmer. Please pass my compliments to Harlan for the quality and quantity of last night's dinner. It knocked me out almost right away."  
Palmer beamed.  
"I will tell him! He will be so pleased to know that you notice his efforts below-stairs. Perhaps," Palmer bit his lip, "if I may speak sir?"  
Carlos almost laughed at his valet's hesitation.  
"Of course, why would you think you could not? You do not need permission to speak, Palmer."  
Palmer's smile twitched and his eyebrows seemed unsure of where to settle.  
"Oh thank you sir! I suggest that you praise Harlan the cook in person. He will not be too busy just now. If you like I could send... um... I could send..."  
"Erika, Palmer we've been over this, they are all called Erika."  
"...to fetch him for you."  
Sir Carlos rubbed his chin. "Hmm, yes. Do that please. I am sure I must have met him already but I can't remember what he looks like."  
Palmer laughed. "He is very handsome, although not as handsome as you."

Palmer would have clamped both hands across his mouth and run from the room if he could have, or turned back time and not said those words. Face hot and head light, he waited a stomach-churning moment for his master's reaction. Carlos laughed.  
"Ha! I bet you say that to flatter all your employers."  
Palmer sighed in relief. In the few seconds between hearing Sir Carlos make a joke of his admission, Palmer considered the options for what to say next. Should he lie and say of course he did, part of the job, and be taken as a shallow flatterer? Should he tell the truth and risk losing his position? He chose a careful compromise.  
"Only the most handsome ones, Sir Carlos."

Sir Carlos dipped his hand in the water to test the temperature.  
"Hmm, it is within acceptable limits for immersion."  
Palmer scooted out to yell, "ERIKA! GET EARL!" and arrived back in the bath chamber in time to assist Sir Carlos out of his nightshirt, averting his eyes as usual. Sir Carlos sank down in his bath, ducking his head and shaking out his curls into a floating halo so that Palmer fancied his master had merman blood in his family line. But Sir Carlos sat up again all too quickly, sweeping his hair back from his perfect face with both hands. 

Palmer positioned his stool at the sloping end of the bathtub, away from the hand pump. Sir Carlos lay back, saturated hair dripping water onto a towel on the floor, and Palmer got to work. He loved this part of his job and only wished Sir Carlos would allow him to increase the frequency of his hair washing from once weekly to every day, but he lacked the nerve to suggest it lest Sir Carlos think he was insulting his master's personal hygiene. Palmer lathered soap scented with sandalwood in his hands and massaged the foam into Sir Carlos's scalp with gentle fingers. Next, he worked the soap through to the ends of Sir Carlos's locks, feeling for knots. When done, he tapped lightly on Sir Carlos's shoulder.

Sir Carlos submerged again and rinsed out the soap. When he surfaced, he tilted his head back and let Palmer pour fresh water over his hair. Sir Carlos opened his eyes.  
"Oh! Um, Harlan."  
The cook stood at the other end of the bathtub, mouth open slightly and eyes open wide.  
"Erika said you, uh, wanted to see me, Sir Carlos?"  
"Yes!" Sir Carlos grinned, eyes sparking and droplets glistening on his skin. "I wanted to say thank you for an excellent meal last night. My guests said it was an unforgettable experience."  
"Oh!" Harlan looked delighted. "Thank you sir!"  
Palmer caught Harlan's eye and winked.  
"Ah, Sir Carlos? Would you care to hear tonight's menu? Since I am here anyway?"

Sir Carlos, oblivious to the effect his naked presence was having on his cook and his valet, agreed. Sir Carlos finished bathing whilst Harlan explained his menu thoughts for the coming week and Palmer pottered around with warmed towels and Sir Carlos's robe. Sir Carlos stood, accepted a towel from Palmer, turbanned it around his head and stepped out of the bath. Harlan fixed his gaze on the handle of the pump, desperate not to stare at his employer in case he forgot to be polite, or to catch Palmer's eyes and giggle. 

Menu plans forgotten, Harlan searched for something safe to say.  
"That is a big bath, the one in the servants' quarters is half the size! Ortiz took so long Palmer and I missed our turn yesterday."  
Sir Carlos nodded.  
"I know. Nothing larger would fit up those narrow stairs. But..." Carlos shook his head. "Ah maybe not. I don't know..." He scratched his chin. "I suppose... See, my family had to share baths because heating water and filling it was such a chore. Mama went first, then my sisters, then me then papa. The water is still warm and it would be a shame to waste it. If you like, you and Palmer can use this bath. I will dress myself and go to my laboratory. Palmer? You can see to my hair later."

Palmer and Harlan looked at each other. Sir Carlos towelled off, put on his robe and went through to his bedchamber to dress. They undressed, leaving clothes in two neat piles on the floor and stepped into the warm water. Earl sniggered.  
"Want me to wash your hair for you, Sir Cecil?"  
Cecil laughed. "Certainly. Tell me how you would like to do that."  
Earl grinned. "I intend to start at your feet and work my way up."


	16. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have the manor to themselves. To Earl's dismay, Carlos declares that he will make dinner. To Cecil's delight, Carlos admits that there is one thing he _really_ wants to try.
> 
> And Pa Harlan comes to dinner.

It was a wet and windy morning somewhere between late Spring and early Summer. Rain hammered down, splashing up on the flagstones outside the servants' door and battering against the windows at the front. Sir Carlos listened to the hiss and rattle, shivered at the occasional howl that was _probably_ just wind resonating in the chimneys, and snuggled down in bed. It was dark, the Sun too weak to break through grey-black storm clouds. Carlos knew it must be early, yet movement from his right hand side told him he was not the only one awake. Someone, Cecil probably, got up to rekindle the fire but the embers were cold and he scurried back to bed.

Carlos turned and threw an arm around the body beside him. Earl took Carlos's hand and pulled it up, kissed the knuckles and replaced it on his stomach. Cecil peered at Carlos over Earl's shoulder.  
"This is a fine morning to pretend to be asleep. Do you have duties, Earl?"  
Earl responded by pulling Cecil closer. Carlos kissed the back of Earl's neck, making him giggle.  
"He does not, Ceece, that is what a day off means. You do not do any work today. Josie and the Erikas left last night to go visit the seaside, hah!, Dana and Maureen will be leaving for their day with Dana's family as soon as their carriage arrives. The manor is ours and Roger's until tomorrow morning."  
Carlos hugged Earl and tried to reach Cecil too. The bedchamber door opened and feet padded over to the bed, a small body with cold feet got in and made Cecil shriek.  
"Roger! Uuh, everyone move up."  
Earl laughed.  
"Mmhmm my early morning plans just altered."  
Carlos sniggered. "I wanted an _Early_ morning too."  
Cecil gently slapped them both. Carlos rolled over and stood up, throwing on his robe in the process.  
"I'll get the fires lit. I want the lab and the kitchen warm enough that we do not need to wear all the usual stuffy layers."  
Cecil sat up halfway.  
"I do not intend disrespect, but.. do you know how to light a fire?"  
Carlos laughed.  
"Cecil Palmer! I am a _scientist._ I know many ways of setting things on fire. But this time I will use the lucifers in the kitchen cabinet."

Carlos put on his slippers and padded out. He lit the kitchen range first as it provided hot water, and warm air would rise through the manor stairwells chasing the chill damp from the upper floors. After that he visited his laboratory and the billiards room, flaring sulphurous matches to light fires already prepared the night before. By the time he returned to his chamber, Earl was telling Roger how to clean out the grate and lay the fire ready for later. Roger appeared not to need to be taught. 

Cecil lounged in bed.  
"What should we do today? Oh! Billiards tournament after lunch. That will be short because I will beat you all."  
Earl laughed. "Don't be so sure. Anyway after lunch I will be busy making dinner for us all. Carlos, may I invite my Pa over to have dinner at the Manor?"  
Carlos nodded. "Of course! But you are not cooking. I am. It is your day off."  
Earl frowned.  
"Can you cook, Carlos? You want to cook in, um, my kitchen?"  
Carlos laughed.  
"Yes, I can cook. In _your_ kitchen."

The manor inhabitants lazed around in or near bed until the wind and rain abated. Roger looked out the window to wave goodbye to Miss Maureen. Earl got up and dressed, taking Roger with him to visit Old Harlan and invite him to come up to the Manor. Cecil and Carlos, wearing outfits normally never seen beyond the bedchamber, wandered below stairs in search of very late breakfast. Carlos offered to make coffee, but Cecil would not hear of it. After some back and forth, Cecil eventually admitted that Carlos made terrible coffee. Carlos shrugged and relinquished the hammer. Cecil set to pounding the beans, yelling at them in a language Carlos did not recognise, but the resulting coffee was excellent.

Carlos found bread and jam in the pantry. They sat around a corner of the wooden table without saying any more than they needed to, communicating comfortably with a touch or a look or a gesture. Meal over, Carlos stroked his chin with one hand and drummed the fingers of the other. Cecil watched and smiled, stilling Carlos's hand by covering it with his own.  
"That is your thoughtful look. Is something bothering you?"  
Carlos raised his eyebrows and turned his hand over to clasp Cecil's fingers in his. He studied their hands intently for a moment.  
"Not exactly. It's something... I don't know. Hmm. Something I both do and do not want to do and thinking about it confuses me because I think I want it very much but I am afraid I will not like it once I have it and that is not how a scientist should think. This matter makes me a bad scientist and that makes me unhappy."  
Cecil bit his lower lip to control his smile but his dimples betrayed his amusement.  
"It is not a laughing matter, Cecil! I am concerned!"

Cecil squeezed Carlos's hand. He stroked Carlos's cheek and tilted his head to look into Carlos's frown.  
"If you would explain to me what it is that you think you want but may not like, perhaps I can help."  
Carlos swallowed and looked from Cecil's eyes to the table surface.  
"Fine. Um. You know that thing you do to Earl and I have also done to Earl four times now? Why does Earl never do that to you or to me?"  
Cecil opened and closed his mouth a few times then shook his head.  
"Carlos, honey, you are going to have to be more explicit in your explanation."  
"Fine." Carlos took a deep breath. "In bed. You give Earl pleasure by putting your penis--"  
"Oh! Stop!" Cecil laughed. "I understand now. I do that to Earl because he enjoys it, and I enjoy doing it. He asked you to do it because he wanted it. He does not do it to me because he would prefer not to and I am happy with that. He does not do it to you because you have not suggested it before. Are you telling me... Carlos? What are you telling me?"  
Carlos shrugged.  
"I think I would like to know what it feels like but I am afraid that I might not like it and it would hurt me and you might get upset if I change my mind after we start and..."  
Cecil stood and threw his arms around seated Carlos.  
"Oh honey, it's all right. It's fine. Look," Cecil cupped Carlos's face in his hands and kissed him gently. "If you want, we can. If you change your mind, we stop. If it hurts then I'm doing something wrong and we stop. Would you like to talk with Earl about it?"  
Carlos nodded and shook his head. Cecil sighed.  
"Are you worried that Earl will laugh?" Carlos glanced up at Cecil. "He will not. He makes light of many things but he would never laugh at you for this. I will not mention it to him, but I will make sure you have a chance to talk before tonight."  
Carlos leaned his head against Cecil's stomach. Cecil ruffled his hair.  
"I certainly will not do or say anything until after you and Earl have talked."  
Carlos stood and hugged Cecil. 

Earl returned without Roger to find Carlos surveying the pantry. Carlos shooed Earl out of the kitchen.  
"I know what I am doing, Earl. Cooking is very scientific. Go find Cecil, I suggested we all dress for dinner in whatever we like to wear. Will Old Pa Harlan be shocked by that?"  
Earl laughed.  
"Old Pa Harlan declined the invitation. He said he wanted to go check on the sheep since the weather has improved and Roger asked to be allowed to go with him. Pa said yes and Roger can stay over and go to market in the morning too."  
"Oh." Carlos shook his head and tightened his lips. "I was looking forward to showing Roger a book I got for him. He can read quite fluently now so I thought it time he was introduced to some scientific literature. It's about a white whale, whatever that is."  
"Aah, he'll be home tomorrow looking for lunch. You can have him all afternoon and read together. Is Ceece upstairs?"  
Carlos nodded. Earl kissed his cheek and bounded off.

Cecil looked up at Earl and smiled.  
"Pa said no?"  
"Pa said no. But it was important to ask. He's kept Roger."  
Earl hugged Cecil from behind and looked over his shoulder at the clothing laid out on the bed.  
"Oh, wear the blue tunic with the gold. You look beautiful in that. And the..." Earl picked up three fine woollen scarves and held them against the blue and gold tunic. "The rose pink whatsit."  
"It's called a pashmina, Earl. I got it from... Oh you know all my stories."  
Earl laughed and kissed Cecil's neck.  
"Which leggings? The new ones you made?"  
Cecil nodded.  
"Yes, and my coral beads."  
"You, my love, are so beautiful. Has Carlos seen you dressed up before?"  
"No," Cecil froze. "He has only ever seen me in my work clothes. Or out of them."  
Earl laughed. "He's in for a treat then!"  
Cecil,concern in his face, turned to Earl.  
"Do you think I should tone it down for him? Maybe wear something a little less... or more... you know."  
Earl kissed Cecil and stroked his hair.  
"No, let him see you as you like to be seen. It will be a new experience for him and he will be unable to take his eyes off you." Earl slid his hands down Cecil's back. "Or his hands, I bet."

"Oh!" Cecil pulled Earl's hands off his backside and held them. "I need to tell you something Carlos told me but I need you not to tell Carlos that I told you to talk to him about it because I told him _he_ had to talk to _you_ about it but he might not want to talk. About, you know, it."  
Earl thought that sentence through and shook his head.  
"What?"  
"He wants to know what it feels like for you when we make love. He said he thinks he wants to be, um, receptive, but he's worried that it will hurt."  
Earl eyebrows shot up.  
"Oh!" He grinned. "You didn't offer to put his mind at rest there and then?"  
Cecil smiled. "I was sorely tempted, honey, but it seemed right to wait for you. Whatever the outcome I think he will need both of us afterwards."  
Earl hugged Cecil.  
"For sure. You having a bath?" Cecil nodded. "I'll go reassure Carlos and check he's not in the process of destroying my kitchen."

Earl trotted down the back stairs to the kitchen. Carlos stood at the table wearing a lab coat over his vest and leggings, chopping onions. Earl watched Carlos's slow, careful, precise movements, desperate to step in and take over to get the job done faster. He took a deep breath.  
"Hey there Carlos! Find everything you need?"  
Carlos looked up and grinned.  
"Yes! I compliment you in the organisation of your pantry. It is just like my chemicals shelf. Everything arranged alphabetically by category and alphabetically again within that category. It is _very_ scientific!"  
Earl laughed and pointed to the cups, bowls and saucers on the table.  
"What's all this?"  
Carlos frowned.  
"All the ingredients, precisely weighed, arranged in the order I must use them. Look..." Carlos tapped the first vessel, a cup, "oil, crushed chili..." he scraped onion into the third bowl, "...onion and garlic, the chopped remains of our last roast, jar of preserved tomatoes..."  
Earl raised his eyebrows and nodded at Carlos.  
"You are the most organised and slowest cook I have ever met. Can I assist you in any way?"  
"Hmm, are there any cooked beans left over? If not, put exactly four ounces on to boil."

Earl searched the pantry, quickly locating _dried goods - beans - borlotti_ and pretending to weigh accurately whilst actually just shaking a couple of handfuls into the balance. He added them to a pan of water and set it on the range.  
"They'll take an age to cook, Carlos, and someone will have to stay here to watch they don't boil dry."  
Carlos smiled.  
"No, they will slow cook in the oven once they have softened a little."  
"What time will dinner be ready?"  
Carlos smiled wider and giggled.  
"Aah time. What time? What _is_ time! It will be ready when we are ready for it."

Earl watched Carlos select the heaviest copper two-handled pan and check it fit in the oven before warming it on top of the range. The oil sizzled as Carlos added chilli then onion and garlic. Carlos whirled from table to range and back, lifting ingredients in order and adding them to the pan. Once the tomatoes and dried herbs went in and Carlos could leave it to simmer, Earl walked over and held him around the waist.  
"Family recipe?"  
"Not really," replied Carlos, leaning into Earl. "I had to substitute dried for fresh and I can't remember exactly how mama made it, but it smells close enough." Carlos closed his eyes. "It makes me remember her voice but not her face."  
Earl blinked back tears and rested his cheek against the back of Carlos's shoulder.  
"I bet it does."

Soon, Carlos declared that the beans could go in too and the dish could slow cook in the oven for as long as they wanted. Earl insisted in checking the oven temperature and the quantity of liquid in his precious copper pan and Carlos pretended not to notice while he took his used crockery to the scullery and washed it.

Earl commented that it was strange having the manor so quiet and empty. Carlos nodded. Earl suggested going upstairs to bathe and change. Carlos agreed. In his old bedchamber, the one with the bath, Carlos operated the pump while Earl stripped. He slung his leg over the side of the bath and giggled.  
"Carlos? Do you remember the first time you invited me to use your bathroom?"  
Carlos laughed.  
"I remember it. Cecil had just washed my hair and I said you could use my bath because the water was still warm enough. You couldn't take your eyes off it. I had no idea you were so impressed by its size."  
Earl sniggered.  
"Actually I was trying not to stare at your cock."  
Carlos grinned.  
"That's what I was talking about."  
Carlos laughed and covered his face.  
"Earl, I was so embarrassed! Later that day I mean, when I had time to think about it. Then I was too tongue-tied to apologise to you. I just did what I normally would have done with only Cecil present. I did not consider your potential discomfort at all."  
Earl sat down in the warm water. Carlos undressed and got in too.  
"Not to worry, Cecil and I dealt with each other's _discomfort_ after you left."  
Earl waggled his eyebrows. Carlos giggled.

Earl lay back with Carlos in his arms, one leg hooked over the side of the tub, the other wrapped around Carlos's hips. Carlos relaxed, head on Earl's chest, hands on Earl's knees, feet up on the base of the pump. Earl sighed.  
"This is the life."  
"Mmhmm," hummed Carlos.  
"What are you going to wear for dinner?"  
"Same as before, only clean I suppose. Cecil usually picks out my clothes."  
Earl shook his head and patted Carlos's chest.  
"No, no, no that won't do at all. Cecil is making a real effort to look lovely tonight. He will be breathtaking and we will tell him so. I am going to wear the blue shirt Ceece got for me because it matches my eyes, and you are going to dress like a scientist."  
Carlos smiled.  
"Fine. I will dress like a scientist."  
Earl laughed. "Fine. What do scientists wear?"

Earl kissed Carlos's head and stroked the fingers of one hand through his hair.  
"Carlos"  
"Mmhmm?"  
"How would you like this evening to go?"  
"What do you mean?"  
Earl kissed Carlos's head again.  
"We have the manor to ourselves. What would you like to happen tonight?"  
Carlos rubbed his face.  
"Uuh, Cecil told you?"  
"Yes. He said not to tell you that."  
Carlos stood up and got out of the bath. He wrapped a towel around himself and handed one to Earl. Earl led Carlos through to the bedroom and sat on the too-small bed. He smiled up at Carlos.  
"Come here, lie down with me. Just to be close."  
Carlos did as Earl asked, head on Earl's shoulder and arm draped across his chest to the opposite shoulder.

Earl spoke after a minute or so.  
"Cecil is very gentle really. I know I tell him not to be and I tell you not to hold back. I love the feeling of being held and taken, full of him, have you take pleasure from me like that. Mmm, I like best when Cecil takes over completely, you know? Then I can let go, I feel safe with him and with you, and I can allow myself to be happy."  
Earl wrapped both arms around Carlos.  
"It's not for everyone. But Cecil is a good lover. He has never hurt me unless I begged him to do it. I find a little of the right kind of pain in the right place at he right time is... well. You've seen the result."  
Carlos was quick to assert that he didn't want pain. Earl held him close.  
"You do not have to have pain. I promise. We can talk it through, what you want, what you don't want."  
Carlos kissed Earl's shoulder.  
"Thank you."

Carlos gathered his soiled clothing from the bathroom floor and padded down the hall to get dressed. Earl lay back for a minute, thinking about his own first time with Cecil, squashed together in their narrow bed in the attic room whilst some or other servant of a guest snored in the other bed, insensible from a long day followed by too much sherry snuck up from the kitchen. Earl smiled and got up before the half-memory-half-fantasy developed into something he would have to deal with.

Cecil dressed with care and watched Earl put on plain trousers and his best blue shirt. Downstairs, Carlos stared into his wardrobe, reasoning that if he was to dress like a scientist and _he_ was a scientist then whatever he wore would suffice. He pulled out a light, off-white open-necked shirt and put it on with no tight undervest, enjoying the feel of the fabric against his skin. Next, his softest dark breeches. They were, he thought, a little tight, perhaps he would be wise to cut down on his appreciation of Earl's efforts to make sure he never went hungry. But he knew his body heat would loosen the fabric to a degree of comfort so he did not upset the order of his wardrobe by searching for something wider. Carlos, simply dressed and completely unaware of the full visual effect of his billowing pale shirt against dark skin, pulled on his shoes and headed for the billiards room.

Earl whistled.  
"Good choice, Sir Carlos! You look very... um... yes, perfectly scientific. I know Cecil likes to see you dressed up but you dress down very well!"  
Carlos laughed.  
"Cecil was right about that shirt. It enhances the colour of your eyes. You look lovely."  
Carlos and Earl both blushed a little at each other, unused to handing out such compliments. A voice from the doorway made them turn.  
"When you two gentlemen have finished flirting with one another, perhaps I may have your attention?"  
Earl grinned at Carlos's face. Cecil sashayed into the room wearing his best blue and gold tunic, his rose-pink pashmina wound around his waist, a pair of soft rabbit-skin breeches, jewelled slippers and coral beads around wrists, ankles and neck. Cecil had allowed his hair to flick and curl freely and it moved like a living thing. 

Carlos was entranced. He stood, staring, silent. Cecil frowned.  
"Oh, um, is this too much? Carlos?"  
Carlos blinked.  
"Cecil! I... you... oh my love, I think you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen!"  
Earl laughed.  
"Isn't he, now?"  
Cecil tugged at the hem of his tunic. Carlos took his hand.  
"I should not make you wear such dull clothes every day when you could shine like this."  
Cecil smiled and traced one finger down the open vee of Carlos's shirt.  
"I could easily say the same to you."

Carlos stroked Cecil's cheek and kissed him. Earl leaned against the billiard table, watched for a few seconds then averted his eyes. He looked back to witness Carlos's hands stroking Cecil's back, Cecil's arms wrapped around Carlos's neck, their bodies pressed tight together. Earl sighed quietly and slowly made for the door. Perhaps Cecil would not notice he had slipped out. Perhaps Carlos would be all he needed.

A soft voice stopped him.  
"Earl?"  
Earl closed the door behind him.  
"Pa! Are you well? Where's Roger?"  
Pa Harlan frowned.  
"Got flooded in this rain. Brought the boy home to his pa," Pa Harlan pointed at Earl's chest. "It'll do for me but cottage ain't fit for 'im to sleep in tonight. Young Roger's down in kitchen with 'is dogs."  
Earl reddened. "DOGS IN MY KITCHEN?!" He waved his arms helplessly. "Pa! you know how I feel about animals--"  
Pa Harlan roared with laughter.  
"Son, I hoped ye'd learn. Dogs are in stable block. Boy wants to sleep up hayloft wi' me and we'll tell each other stories. But if invitation to eat is still open...?"  
Earl laughed and hugged the old man, worrying that Pa had shrunk since noon.  
"Yes, please stay. I will ask Sir Carlos if you can have a room in the Manor tonight. He will say yes."  
Pa Harlan shook his head.  
"No, no, heh, nay! happier with the horses, me. I'll eat with you below stairs once you've fed your master. Boy's in the kitchen drying 'is boots. I'll go see to 'im. Smells funny down there."

Pa Harlan moved with grace that defied his years and his hard life as shepherd then groundsman. He disappeared down the back stairs with a last grin at Earl. Earl rejoined Cecil and Carlos in the billiards room. Cecil gave a half-hopeful half-smile.  
"Your pa is here?"  
Earl grinned.  
"Yes! He changed his mind, said his cottage flooded and he wants food and to sleep in the hayloft."  
Carlos made for the door.  
"He can have a room in the house! Earl, I'm not having your father sleep--"  
Earl held Carlos back.  
"Carlos, it's where he's comfortable. He used to live there, above the horses. I'll see that he gets dinner with Roger and we can--"  
Carlos shook his head.  
"Fine, if he likes the hayloft he can have it but he's eating with us. He's your father! He deserves more respect."  
Cecil's face twitched into a smile.  
"Carlos, if we are all to eat with Pa Harlan then we will all have to eat below stairs. He's not a man to forget his place like we do."  
Carlos persisted.  
"But surely if I invited him--"  
"No!" Earl was firm. "He is very set in his ways, Carlos." Cecil nodded and added a quiet _mmhmm yes he is that._ Earl continued, "A place for everyone and everyone in their place. He's too damn proud of his own place to allow you to show him any charity."  
Carlos sighed and relented. 

Dinner was an awkward affair with furtive glances at one another across the table, accidental hand touches on the serving spoons and stolen kisses in the kitchen while in the servants' dining room Pa Harlan was busy with the business of lecturing Roger about the proper care of Clydesdales. afterwards, Carlos fetched Roger's new book and the boy examined the first page closely. Pa Harlan asked if Roger would read aloud and show his learning. Roger smiled at his grandfather.  
_"Call me Ismael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little..."_  
Carlos gaped at the fluency of Roger's reading. Pa Harlan interrupted now and again, pointing to words and asking what they were. Roger showed no irritation at these disturbances, merely repeated the words, sounding them out and pointing to syllables like Carlos had seen Miss Maureen do with the lad during reading lessons in the laboratory. _cir-cum-am-bul-ate_  
Pa Harlan shook his head and clapped Roger on the back.  
"Well if he meant he went for a walk he might have said as much plain. Come on boy, clean your plate and bring that book. Tonight you are going to be the one telling stories." Pa Harlan winked at Carlos. "Looks like that'un'll last all night."

Pa Harlan collected his coat and Roger's boots, now mostly dry, declined an invitation to come in for breakfast but accepted a storm lantern, an extra blanket and a chunk of bread and cheese for morning. Roger hugged Earl and Cecil in turn. Carlos hung back. Roger met his eyes and smiled as he called _goodnight, papa!_

Once the three had watched the yellow flame of the storm lantern vanish around the stable block, Earl let out a long sigh.  
"I think that went well."  
Cecil nodded. "Yes, I think so too."  
Carlos shrugged. "Why wouldn't it?"  
Earl looked at Carlos and shook his head silently. Carlos excused himself and went to clear up in the dining room.  
Cecil kissed Earl's cheek.  
"Your Pa has no idea _that_ is Sir Carlos, has he?"  
Earl laughed.  
"Not unless Roger tells him. When you and Carlos _went to fetch more water,_ which took an age by the way..." Cecil sniggered, "...he asked who the handsome new footman was and advised me to keep an eye on him around you. I think he saw Carlos feeling your coney-clad arse."  
Cecil laughed.  
"Did you two talk earlier, you and Carlos?"  
Earl nodded. "We did."  
"A-a-and?"  
"I told him you set my fundament on fire, you set light to my very core, you sent lightning bolts up my--"  
"Oh tell me you did not!"

Carlos came back to find Cecil and Earl wrestling. He watched Cecil squirm under Earl yet somehow end up on top. Carlos suspected that Earl let Cecil win. Earl stopped giggling for long enough to notice Carlos grinning at them. He tipped Cecil off sideways, stood up and smirked at Carlos.  
"My pa thought you were a very handsome footman and warned me that Cecil couldn't be trusted around you."  
Carlos swallowed an indignant complaint because he was not sure exactly what part of that sentence bothered him. He smirked back at Earl.  
"When you went to _help Cecil find another plate_ he told me that I should stay away from you both and ask Cardinal out."  
Earl grinned and waggled dark eyebrows over bright blue eyes.  
"So are you going to? Miss Maureen might have a thing or two to say about that."

Earl and Carlos pulled Cecil to his feet. Together they checked fireguards and extinguished lamps, walking arm in arm from room to room, putting the Manor to bed for the night. Up in Sir Carlos's bedchamber, Cecil set about removing his coral beads, carefully laying them on a piece of silk, rolling it up and tying it closed to protect them. When done, he watched Carlos and Earl take turns to undress each other garment by garment. It did not take long. Cecil unwound his pashmina, pulled off his tunic and hung it in Carlos's wardrobe, unlaced his furry pants, pulled them off inside out and laid them over the chair.

Earl and Carlos were busy. Earl lay back on the bed, Carlos straddled him, knees either side of Earl's hips and hands in Earl's hair, lips pressed together. Earl's hands roved over Carlos's back, settling on his backside and pulling him closer. For a moment Cecil considered watching them to see how far they would go without him but such patience and restraint was not a large part of his nature. Cecil put a hand on Carlos's back, leaned over and kissed his hip. Carlos broke his kiss with Earl to turn his head and smile. Cecil smiled back.  
"You want this?"  
Carlos nodded. Cecil fetched the oil and left it within convenient reach.

Carlos moved as if he intended to get up but Earl held his waist.  
"Stay here, Carlos. This is good for us all."  
Carlos raised one eyebrow but relaxed when he felt Cecil's hands on his hips, Cecil's knees slide up inside his ankles, Cecil's arms pull him back so that he felt Cecil's erection rub against his backside.  
"Oooh," Carlos understood, Earl giggled at the sight of Carlos's expression and pulled Carlos's head down for another kiss. Cecil leaned forwards and Carlos felt him plant a kiss on the bump of each vertebra until he ran out of visible backbone. Carlos nuzzled Earl's neck, unaware of the look Cecil shot at Earl, a lascivious grin that made Earl snigger. 

Barely aware of Cecil's presence once Earl pulled him back into a kiss that made him tingle with pleasure, Carlos gasped and groaned into Earl's mouth as Cecil dipped his head, massaged Carlos's buttocks and licked with slick, fluttery tongue from Carlos's balls to his entrance. Carlos sank his head onto Earl's shoulder, tilting his hips in an attempt to feel more of Cecil's touch, the head of his hard cock rubbing on Earl's belly. Earl's hands stroked from Carlos's back to his chest and stomach, one set of fingers finding Carlos's nipple and stroking over the erect nub, the other hand reaching lower. Carlos felt Earl's fingers trace along his shaft, lift his cock and stroke it then hold it against his own. 

The barest scrape of teeth on Carlos's buttocks made him whimper. He felt Cecil's tongue wriggle a slow circle around his entrance, mouth pausing to kiss and suck at sensitive skin, pull away and tease at his balls and, from the reactions of the man below them both, Earl's. Carlos was helpless with need. He made incoherent syllables when Cecil's tongue, firmed to a point, pushed inside his outer ring of muscle and writhed at the inner. Earl brought both hands up to Carlos's head, lifting him with two handfuls of thick hair for a kiss that Carlos never wanted to end. 

Cecil, face still buried in Carlos, pushed Carlos flat against Earl, their hips touching. Earl stretched out, feeling pressure and friction that made him smile and _mmhmm_ in pleasure. Carlos moaned and mumbled when Cecil forced his tongue deeper, working it back and forwards, then sat up, with one hand firm on Carlos's lower back, while the other wiped his own mouth and reached for the oil. 

Cool, almost cold. The oil tickled as it dribbled and Cecil giggled at the goosebumps on Carlos's perfect skin. Carlos, hearing Earl murmur to him to _hold still, let Cecil do all the work_ relaxed. Something, a finger Carlos thought, pushed into him and made him want to push back, but Earl held him tight. It was not enough, Carlos thought, and vocalised _uuuhh more!_  
Cecil laughed, pulled his finger clear and pushed in two. Carlos felt full, stretched tight, but the fingers inside him moved, twisting and thrusting and opening until again, it was not enough. 

_More!_  
Cecil, silent now as Earl murmured soft praise to Carlos, nudged Earl's knees apart and knelt between his thighs. Carlos pushed back onto three of Cecil's fingers, allowed to thrust and writhe by Earl who still held his head by the hair, pulling him one way or the other to kiss him, or murmur a question and listen or feel for an answer. Cecil smiled at Earl and Earl smiled back with the slightest of nods. Cecil withdrew his fingers, leaned his weight on knees and one hand, and slowly entered Carlos.

Carlos's sucked in a breath and held it, eyes wide, perfectly still. Earl released his hair and stroked his head.  
"Carlos? my love? need to stop?"  
Carlos let the breath out slowly and closed his eyes. He smiled and pushed back onto Cecil. Cecil grinned.  
"Mmhmm, Carlos, my sweet, eager Carlos," Cecil let his weight rest on Carlos's back. Carlos in turn leaned on Earl, who pulled a face at Cecil. "Being in you feels so _good!"_  
Cecil began with slow, gentle thrusts, hips barely moving. When Cecil thrust into Carlos, Carlos thrust against Earl providing welcome friction and pressure for them both. Cecil adjusted his position, a little further back, a little to the side, a little further up until Carlos cried out his ecstasy at every flex of Cecil's hips. Cecil moved faster, harder, hands grasping at the bedclothes until Carlos's core spasmed and he cried out through his climax, collapsing as if deflated. Cecil thrust for another minute, fast but shallower, until he threw his head back and came with a few ragged breaths. 

Earl gave Cecil a minute or two to withdraw from Carlos, laughed and pushed both men off.  
"You both look like you needed that."  
Carlos lay on his back with his knees up, grinning. Cecil laughed and stood up.  
"I'm going to get something to clean us all up with. When I come back I expect to see you, Sir Carlos, put a smile on the face of your precious cook."  
Carlos rolled onto his side and gazed at Earl. Earl shifted up to sit leaning against the head of the bed and Carlos rolled over once more, landing with his head between Earl's thighs. Cecil returned in time to see Earl grasp Carlos's hair with one hand and the edge of the bed with the other. Sure enough, he was smiling.

Cecil helped both Carlos and Earl to clean up. Earl excused himself and padded off wearing Carlos's robe to make everyone herbal tea and look out over the grounds to see a flickering light in the small windows of the stable block. Earl thought of Roger peering at the dense text on the page, reading aloud to his grandfather, and he felt warm. 

Slipping under the bedcovers, Carlos gave a tight smile.  
"Ceece, what did Pa Harlan mean when he said Roger and Earl were both gifts from the faeries?"


	17. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Marcus and a mess.

Jake put down his pen and capped the inkwell. He frowned at Marcus over the top of gold-rimmed half-moon spectacles.  
"Yes, Marcus?"  
Marcus huffed. "Have you sent off the first twenty chapters yet?"  
"Of course I have, as soon as you told me the publisher wanted them," Jake looked back down at the neat handwritten page in front of him. Marcus sighed.

Marcus sighed again half a minute later.  
"Jakey-boy, put that away for the day. You've been working on it for weeks without a break and--"  
"Four days, Marcus, it has been four days."  
"Whatever. Take today off and eat lunch with me. Heh. I request your company this afternoon."  
Jake smiled his best smile.  
"Why, Marcus, what a lovely invitation. But chapter forty-three won't write itself you know. I am eager to finish this chapter by the weekend so that you can tell me more about--"  
"Stop." Marcus put his hands over Jake's as Jake reached for his pen. "You are relieved of writing duties from now until tomorrow. I desire your, heh, attention."

Jake gave Marcus a brittle smile and removed his spectacles, setting them down carefully on the page. He cleaned his pen nib on a clean rag and put it away. He stood up.  
"Well then, Marcus, I suppose I am at your disposal for the rest of the day. What would you have me do?"  
Marcus leered.  
"That's more like it, my boy! It is gone twelve. Come have lunch in the parlour and I will tell you about my latest investments. After that, we will see what, y'know, diversions we can come up with."  
Jake suppressed a shudder but agreed to lunch.

Jake joined Marcus after washing as much ink from his fingers as he could. He perched on a chair opposite his master, across the card table that held their lunch tray.  
"You made some more investments?" Jake peeled back bread and checked the contents of a sandwich before biting into it.  
"Yes, heh. Y'know, that business from out of town or wherever." Marcus stuffed a whole sandwich into his mouth and chewed. "Thtrecth." Jake noted where Marcus's escaped food landed and avoided that part of the tray.  
"Hmm." Jake stroked his jaw.  
"You heard of them?" Marcus picked up another sandwich, opened his mouth, saw Jake's expression and inserted his second sandwich complete. Jake scowled and looked away.  
"I have asked around, Marcus. Are you sure it's wise to invest so heavily in one company?" Jake took the last unsoiled sandwich.  
"Heh!" Marcus nodded. "They're our future, Jakeyboy! They're buying up small businesses in town and modernising, streamlining. You know, cutting down on waste, increasing productivity. Bringing in their own people. That sort of thing."  
"Oh." Jake chewed and swallowed. "What about our people who were there before?"  
"What about them?" Marcus shrugged. "Heh. They have to adapt to a new way of working. Or, y'know, not working. Strex is planning a huge factory complex on the other side of town. Enough employment for the whole vale."

Jake stood up and left the room, fists clenched. He returned a minute later once the urge to punch his employer abated. Marcus eyed him warily. Jake sighed and took a slice of cake from the tray. He pointed the thin end at Marcus.  
"Marcus, have you ever considered the effect your investments are having on our little town? Have you looked properly?"  
Marcus frowned.  
"What a strange question, Jake. I see the orange S sign go up on new properties every week and I am proud to be associated with it. The age of the small, independent business is over, Jake."  
Jake waved cake at Marcus again.  
"Do you mean that Vansten Industries is prepared to become subsumed into Strex?"  
Jake bit into the sponge cake. Marcus sat with raised eyebrows.  
"Huh. Heh heh heh. That won't happen, Jakeyboy. I am buying into Strex, they are not buying me."  
Jake, voice thickened by sugary buttercream, mumbled _you think? who's bigger!_ He sat back and frowned. Marcus frowned back.

Marcus lightly slapped Jake's thigh and suggested sherry and a game of billiards after lunch. Jake agreed, pouring fino for himself and deep, raisiny Oloroso for Marcus. Jake kept Marcus's glass filled and won the first game. Marcus, predictably, announced "best of three" and won the second game. Jake smiled, wondering how long he could make the third game last. Surely at least until tea time, if he employed suitable diversionary tactics.

Jake set up for the final game.  
"So, Marcus, if I may ask..."  
Jake's pause was deliberate. Marcus gazed at his frown over the baize surface between them.  
"You may ask anything, heh. I live in hope that you will ask for a good f--"  
"Marcus!" Jake barked.  
"Heh heh. Y'know, kidding. Whatever."  
Jake smiled despite himself.  
"Does it not bother you having so much of your capital tied up with Strex? What if they fail?"  
Marcus laughed off Jake's question, asserting that Strex was too big to collapse. But Jake saw Marcus frown and rub his face. Jake dropped questions onto Marcus after every move.  
Which businesses had Strex bought out.  
What happened to the old owners.  
How did each business fare under new management.  
How dire would be the consequences of a collapse.  
Eventually Marcus sighed and banged his billiard cue on the table.  
"Jake, Jakey. stop." Marcus glowered at his assistant. "I want to think of more pleasant things today. Your companionship usually lifts my spirits but today I wonder what I have done to make you so unreasonable!"  
Jake smiled and took his turn. Marcus laughed.  
"Jake! what an unlucky shot. Heh. For you."

For the rest of the game, Jake was agreeable and Marcus was charming. _Perhaps the Oloroso helps,_ Jake thought, pouring Marcus his fourth or fifth glass. _Sweetens him up a bit._ Jake also wondered if there could be any situation in which he might be happy with Marcus. Over the next fifteen minutes, while Marcus took calculated shots and Jake sipped his second glass of fino, Jake decided that happiness was probably for other people. _Like Palmer,_ Jake thought with a prickle of envy. He thought of the snatched conversations he had had with Palmer below stairs at the Manor, when Cecil had frowned at Jake's questions and assured him that Sir Carlos was a considerate employer. Jake wondered what it would be like if Marcus was more considerate, if he could say _Marcus, I would like to share your bed but only for warmth, the heat you wish for is not in my nature._

Marcus gave a triumphant bellow, as usual. Jake smiled and shook his hand, as usual. Marcus hugged him, as usual. Marcus did not attempt any unwelcome contact. This was not usual. Jake tidied up while Marcus watched.  
"Heh. I won," Marcus reminded, "do I get a, y'know, prize or whatever?"  
Jake thought fast, _what do I do now?_  
"Marcus, I want you to go to your... bedchamber."  
Marcus's eyes bulged. Jake handed him a bottle. "Take the Oloroso with you. I will be there soon."  
_With luck he'll fall asleep._  
Jake finished tidying the room, took the used glasses and washed them, exchanged words with the footman, transcribed three careful paragraphs and headed upstairs. 

Marcus was awake and nude under his robe.  
"Jake, my dear Jake. Hmm." Marcus smirked. "I wonder what you have in mind for me."  
Jake frowned and cursed silently at the unchanged level of the sweet sherry bottle. He sighed.  
"Honestly, Marcus, I thought I would find you asleep."  
"Heh! Not with my Jakeyboy sending me to bed!"  
Marcus got up and walked over to Jake. He took Jake's hands.  
"Come to bed with me, Jake. You can do, heh, whatever you want. Anything." Marcus sniggered. "Anything with me, y'know."  
Jake laughed, a little forced.  
"Anything? Really? Very well. A game. Can I tie you up so that your hands cannot distract me and wander where I do not want them?"

Heart racing, Jake held his breath. Surely he had gone too far. He felt his head spin but Marcus laughed.  
"Whatever. Why not let you play at being in control. You may restrain my hands if that will, heh, amuse you. It might be fun."  
Jake's face performed a number of conflicting expressions.  
"What?"  
Marcus stroked a finger along Jake's jaw and spoke in a quiet, rhythmic voice.  
"If tying my hands puts you more at your ease, then you may tie my hands."  
Jake stared. Marcus stared back.  
"Are you sure, Marcus?"  
In response, Marcus offered Jake the silk cord from his robe. Jake took it.

Marcus held his wrists together, Jake looped and knotted the cord, checking if it was comfortable. He led Marcus to the bed by pulling on the loose end. Marcus lay on his back, arms above his head, elbows bent for comfort, and allowed Jake to tie the free end of the cord to a bedpost. Marcus sighed.  
"Would you permit me to do this to you?"  
Jake froze.  
"No. Never."  
"Heh heh. Thought not."

Marcus lay still with a smile on his lips. Jake frowned. Marcus closed his eyes.  
"You've got me where you want me, Jakeyboy. What are you going to do?"  
Jake stood still for a moment, watching Marcus's face. Marcus opened his eyes.  
"Heh. Like what you see?"  
Jake scowled, a sudden flash of anger made him act before he thought. He pulled the deep red cravat from his neck and wrapped it around Marcus's head to hide his grinning face. At a muffled complaint from his employer, Jake pushed the fabric clear of Marcus's mouth and nose. Marcus took a couple of deep breaths.  
"You want to play, y'know, rough with me, Jake?"  
Jake stood perfectly still, hands clenched by his side, stomach churning, contemplating his future. Or lack of it. He let his eyes drift from Marcus's swaddled head down his chest to... _oh!_

Jake paced the room for a minute, biting at his fist and frowning, hand in his hair. Once he thought he trusted his voice, he spoke.  
"Marcus?"  
"I have not, heh, attempted escape."  
"Are you enjoying this?"  
"Heh heh heh heh!"  
Jake looked around the room. He took a necktie Marcus was not fond of wearing from his drawer and made loops in each end, securing Marcus's feet to the diagonally opposite bedpost. Marcus lay stretched out, sniggering and rock hard. Jake ran one finger the length of Marcus's body, from one elbow above his head down to his ankles, then very quietly left the room.

Jake stood with his back to Marcus's bedchamber door. The surly footman passed and gave Jake a glare. Jake smiled as sweetly as he could manage.  
"Would you be so kind as to bring Mr Vansten's tea tray up and leave it just here?"  
Jake indicated the console table at the side of the door. The footman looked like he was about to refuse.  
"Mr Vansten is all tied up and needs me to see to his business right now. He would be very disappointed to have to go without. Knock on the door when you bring it."  
The footman glared harder but headed downstairs. 

Jake slipped back into the room. He sat on the bed by Marcus's feet.  
"Can you turn over?"  
Marcus shuffled to one side and managed with a little assistance to rock over onto his front. Jake massaged Marcus's calves and Marcus hummed in appreciation. Jake took his time working his way up the backs of Marcus's legs, stroking and kneading. Marcus let out a long sigh and pushed his hips into the bed when Jake's fingers reached his upper thighs.  
"You like this, Marcus?"  
"Heh heh heh!"  
Jake pulled off his shoes and straddled Marcus's thighs, placing both hands on Marcus's back. He frowned, he had no clear idea of how to proceed. He drew lazy snakes on Marcus's back and buttocks with two fingers of each hand. Marcus's skin pricked up into goosebumps. Jake grinned. He investigated which areas of skin were most sensitive and brushed over them until Marcus rutted into the bedspread. Jake rolled off. He put his mouth close to Marcus's ear and murmured, _turn over._

Someone tapped the door. Jake waited until he heard footsteps recede then opened the door wide enough to lift the tea tray through. He set the cup upright on its saucer and opened the teapot. Marcus called out.  
"Jake, seriously? Tea? Now? You could do anything you want to me and--"  
"Shush, Marcus. You said I could do whatever I want. I want to have tea."  
Jake looked over the contents of the tray. One cup. Two small sandwiches. One scone. One wrinkled sweet apple leftover from the harvest. Marcus called out again.  
"Jake, don't, y'know, leave me like this!"  
Jake smiled and chewed a sandwich. He picked up the apple and stood near Marcus's head.  
"Open your mouth, Marcus. No... wider. Wi-i-ider... Perfect!" Jake placed the apple between Marcus's jaws. "Bite gently. Mmhmm. Now, stop talking unless you want me untie you and leave you to make your own entertainment. I'm in control here."

Jake watched Marcus for any sign of annoyance or anger, ready to apologise and wait for forgiveness, but there was none. Marcus bit through the apple, chewed and swallowed and said nothing. Jake leaned down and kissed Marcus once close to his lips. He opened the second drawer of Marcus's dresser and found Marcus's kid-leather gloves. Jake pulled them on and warmed his hands on the teapot.

Jake ran his gloved hands lightly down Marcus's chest to his stomach. Marcus whimpered.  
"You may speak, Marcus. Do you like to be touched?"  
Marcus grinned.  
"Uuh you know I do!"  
"Do you understand that I do not like to be touched, at least not like this?"  
Jake rested a hand on Marcus's erection. Marcus arched to press up into Jake's hand.  
"What do you mean?"  
Jake rolled his eyes and sighed. He rubbed gently up and down Marcus's cock. Marcus bit his lip and arched up again.  
"This. Marcus, you like to be touched in this manner. I do not."  
Marcus was not capable of forming a reply. Jake's hand clasped around his cock and stroked faster. Marcus came over himself and over his glove. Jake peeled it off and threw it on the floor then untied Marcus's wrists and ankles. Marcus took the cravat from his eyes and used it to clean his belly, muttering an apology when he saw Jake's expression.

Jake poured tea for Marcus and covered him with his robe. Marcus sat up and patted the bed beside him. Jake sat, confident that Marcus would be satisfied for a while. Marcus sipped cool tea and leaned against Jake.  
"So, um, what? You don't like it when I put my hands--"  
"Don't!" Jake snapped. "Don't even say it. No, I do not want you to put your hands on me."  
"Not ever?" Marcus pouted.  
"Not unless I say you can, and then only where I say. Like, now, I suppose a hand on my knee or an arm around my waist would be nice. But nothing more."

Marcus squeezed Jake's knee.  
"Huh. Don't you want me to repay the compliment?"  
"No."  
"I want to."  
"No."  
"Why not? You made me feel good. See this smile?" Marcus pointed to his face. He was smiling, relaxed. "Can't I make you smile like this?"  
"No." Jake shook his head.  
"I don't understand."  
Jake sighed. "Marcus, I don't really care whether you understand or not. I do not want to be touched there. Not by you, not by anyone."  
"Oh." Marcus frowned. "So you're not fucking Sir Carlos's man?"  
Jake laughed.  
"No, Marcus, I have no interest in fucking anyone."  
Marcus's grip tightened so much that Jake winced in pain.  
"So why did you tell Sir Carlos about that letter? Why did you take their side against me? Jake, if you were looking for them to owe you a favour I would understand, but now I am at a loss to explain your disloyalty."

Jake pulled Marcus's hand off his leg and stood up. He paced and shook his head.  
"You thought I would derail your plans for... for _sex?_ that's... that's... _ridiculous!_ Would you do something like that? Would you?"  
Marcus shrugged.  
"Maybe. So, explain to me why you stopped me from taking that Harlan kid and why you told Sir Carlos about my bid to buy the schools."  
Jake stared at Marcus. Neither of them smiled.  
"Because, Marcus, some things are just _wrong_ and you don't see it."  
Marcus snorted.  
"Oh Jakey, Jake. That's, y'know, not how the world works. There's no room for sentiment, or whatever. Do you think I got rich by accident? Do you think I can afford to keep you because I'm, what, nice?"  
"No, Marcus," Jake shook. "You are not _nice._ You are sometimes a terrible person. But you could be less terrible and still make a profit. What was that one boy to you? Sir Carlos is well liked. If it got around that you blackmailed him out of pride, you would lose business. People barely trust you as it is. I hear things, Marcus, I hear things you do not. The good people's servants whisper to me and I do what I can to make sure you will _always_ be able to keep me in your employ."  
Marcus stared at Jake with his face unreadable.  
"Leave."

Jake reddened, turned and fled for his own room. He packed quickly, starting with the box under the loose floorboard and anything small and of value. Carrying one medium sized bag, Jake trotted down the back stairs and out the servants' door. He walked quickly away from the Vansten residence until he was sure he could not be seen even from the upper windows. Jake stood, looked at the ground and then the sky and wondered where in the world he could go.


	18. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger goes missing. A search of the Manor and grounds finds more than expected.

Late Spring became early Summer. Threats of frost seemed laughable by the warm final week of May and the lambs bleated from the moors where sharp winds softened. The grounds, green with new growth and purple with fragrant lavender, provided Roger with a playground and a classroom all in one. He took to slipping out when the house was silent, knowing that monsters only lurked in shadows indoors. Moonlight guided his footsteps some nights, memory served on others. He wandered, exploring in the dark, watching the stars blink back at him and daring the Moon to tell him off. Miss Maureen seemed to approve, thought Roger, these days she praised him that his afternoon naps passed without complaint. Sudden eyes, yellow or green or red, pairs of lights staring at him from low to the earth, fascinated him. At night he made observations like Papa Carlos showed him, sketching in a little notebook Janice gave him at the village store, then asking Grandpa about the wild things that lived around the Manor.

Concerned at the silence one morning, Maureen searched Roger's room. She knew his best hiding places: under the bed was too obvious but she looked anyway, there were no unexplained bulges in the curtain, when she opened the cupboard no piles of discarded clothing giggled when she poked, and mentions of leftover cake in the pantry did not bring thundering footsteps to her side.

Maureen searched the nursery, still called that despite its recent conversion to what Sir Carlos called a _multi-purpose learning room_ with supplies of materials Roger might use for writing and drawing using ink he made himself under Papa Carlos's guidance in the laboratory. Roger was not in his favourite spot, legs tucked up on the window seat with the curtain closed, watching the manor business carry on outside.

Maureen headed downstairs after asking Erika to look in the servants' rooms. Erika stood perfectly still, closed all their eyes, hummed quietly and announced in a soft contralto that Roger was not upstairs. Sir Carlos looked blank when Maureen asked if Roger was helping him with whatever he was doing. Dana confessed that she had not seen Roger at breakfast and he had not appeared in the scullery to pester Erika for leftover cake batter from the morning's bake. Cecil frowned and said that Roger was probably just engrossed in some project of his own devising and would appear when he realised he was hungry.

When Roger did not show up in the servants' dining room for lunch, Earl began to fret. Ortiz suggested that the boy might have gone to see his grandfather without thinking to tell anyone, or out to play in the grounds, maybe to the woods to climb trees. Earl nodded. Surely Roger would be back soon, filthy and ravenous, ready to evade questions about his adventures between mouthfuls of thick mutton broth and doughballs.

An hour later, Earl was worried. Maureen and Dana organised a top-down, methodical search of the manor house but Roger was not indoors. Ortiz alerted the head groundsman to conduct a sweep of the outbuildings. Earl himself ran as fast as he could sustain the mile or so to his father's cottage, finding Pa Harlan asleep and Roger absent, but Pa Harlan soon roused himself and his dogs to join the search, reassuring Earl that the boy was likely just walking like Earl used to do. Earl frowned and Pa Harlan slapped his shoulder a couple of times in lieu of a hug. Pa Harlan patted Earl's cheek and said, "Ye'd feel if he'd gone back where he came from. Used to fret the same about you but you always came home."

Pa Harlan took the woods, Sir Carlos headed into the village to alert Carlsberg, who was guaranteed to tell everyone, in case the lad had wandered that way in search of amusement. Maureen and Dana widened their search to the outbuildings and checked for small footprints and disturbances in the ground around the pond.

Cecil sat and thought about where Roger might like to be, if not at home. He thought about where he himself had occasionally hidden in search of quiet.

Everyone from the manor reconvened in the servants' dining room, except Pa Harlan who checked in with the groundsmen then headed up to the moor in case Roger went to see the growing lambs and listen to the shepherds' stories of stone circles and faeries who danced on the tors. 

Earl sank his head onto his hands, elbows on the table.  
"He has to be somewhere, Earl," Carlos reassured. "Everyone has to be somewhere. He can't be nowhere. He is somewhere we have not looked yet."  
Maureen stood near the door, having been one of the last to return. Her low voice betrayed her concern.  
"Earl, he must have slipped out while everyone was asleep. He often leaves his bed, I assumed he--"  
"ASSUMED?" Earl roared. "YOU ASSUMED HE WAS SAFE!" He banged both fists on the table, making the porcelain flower bowl centrepiece rattle and jump. "YOU ASSUMED HE WAS SAFE AND HE IS NOT SAFE!"  
Earl took three deep breaths and turned a face full of pain at Maureen.  
"Roger should have been in bed. How could you not have known he'd left his room? WHY DID YOU LET HIM OUT OF YOUR SIGHT?"  
Maureen felt her heart rate rocket and her breathing run fast and shallow. Her head swam and she gripped Dana's arm to ground her. Tears flowed before she could bite her lip and pinch her leg to stop them.  
"I'M HIS TUTOR NOT HIS JAILER!"  
Maureen whirled, teeth set in a grimace and ran from the room. Dana followed, calling her name. Dana caught up halfway to the nursery and took Maureen into her arms, murmuring over and over _not your fault, not your fault my love._

With Maureen and Dana gone, Earl's temper looked for another perch. His wrath settled on his lovers next. He pointed at Carlos.  
"And YOU! Why, WHY IN THE NAME OF ALL THE GODS IS IT SO EASY FOR A BOY TO SLIP OUT?" Carlos reached across the table but Earl snatched his hands away.  
"This place should be safe, secure. It's his HOME forfucksake. IT SHOULD BE A FUCKING FORTRESS, CARLOS!"  
The table received another assault. Carlos remained as calm as he could, aware that his elevated pulse and breathing rate were physical responses to a situation out of control. He fought not to yell back.  
"Earl, the Manor is secure against intruders trying to force a way in. It HAS to be possible to get out easily. What if, what if there was a fire or something?"  
Earl glared at Carlos but his face broke into a high pitched sob halfway.  
"What if there was a small boy who wantedtorunaway?"  
Earl hunched over, head on his fists on the table, heaving sobs through clenched jaws.

Cecil crept over and laid a hand on Earl's back. Earl sat up so abruptly that he felt lightheaded and his ears rang.  
"And you, Cecil, Ceece, I thought you loved him too, but while we have all been out searching YOU SAT HERE AND DID FUCK ALL."  
Earl stood, snatched up the centrepiece and threw it against the wall where it smashed into pieces. He slumped down and covered his eyes with both palms. Cecil backed away and left the room. 

Earl sat and sobbed. Carlos knelt beside him and laid a hand on his back. Everyone else filed out for lack of any idea of what to do other than get on with daily life. Carlos held Earl without condescending to offer false reassurance.

Earl wiped his face in the dulled silence that followed his emotional release. He found a calm, determined voice.  
"Carlos, I have to search."  
Carlos nodded.  
"Yes. I think I understand. I will come with you."  
Earl shook his head.  
"No, I am going to wait near where I first found him. Maybe he will return there after dark and be afraid."  
Carlos hugged Earl, closing his eyes and sighing. It was, he reasoned to himself, as good a place as any for Earl to seek some peace.  
"I will go back into the vill--"  
"No, Carlos, please." Earl gripped Carlos's arm. "Wait for Roger here. If..." Earl took a deep breath. "When he returns he will surely want his papas."  
Carlos kissed Earl's cheek and held him again.  
"Take food, a lantern and warm clothing with you. As soon as Roger is found I will come for you."

Earl busied himself with preparations for his vigil. It was gone dinnertime with the manor unfed but not one member of the household felt like eating. He would have to hurry for dwindling twilight to help him find his way. Earl planned to sit exactly where he had first encountered the terrified boy, hoist the lantern up high and wait. Carlos accompanied Earl to the end of the herb garden and held him. A sound from around the corner of the house caught their attention and Earl dropped all that he carried. Roger barrelled into Earl, holding tight to his waist, burying his face in Earl's coat. Earl sank to his knees, lifted Roger and carried him inside. 

Cecil appeared a minute later with another figure tripping and stumbling along behind him. Carlos stared from Cecil to the stranger and back. He stared at the stranger again, closer, looking at the facial structure behind the straggly beard, the unmistakeable fine eyebrows of the downcast head. Carlos gaped.  
"Jake?"

Jake did not look up. Cecil nodded.  
"Jake found Roger. Let's get inside. I think he's going to fall o..Oh!"  
Carlos caught Jake before he hit the ground.  
"Ceece, tell Cardinal to get a room ready then go see to Earl and Roger. Send whoever is available out to help me with Jake."  
Cecil ran into the house. Ortiz appeared a few minutes later, by which time Jake had come round and was mumbling apologies for the intrusion. Ortiz told him to shut his mouth and get up.

Carlos helped Jake indoors and into the servants' dining room. Ortiz brought him some warm broth and bread. Jake ate, avoiding eye contact with both Carlos and Ortiz. After his second bowl, Jake sighed.  
"Sir Carlos, I did not know your boy was missing. I could have spared you worry. He caught me trying to steal eggs from your henhouse. I opened it up and there he was, sitting cross-legged inside, cradling a hen in his lap! He said he had seen a fox and wanted to make sure his hens were safe. I told him I was hungry and asked if the hens would mind if I took an egg from them. He said they didn't like people to take their eggs either but they understood that people were kinder than foxes so maybe..."  
Jake closed his eyes. Ortiz rolled hers.

"hnnh!...maybe they would let me have one, uh, your boy handed me an egg and said he would show me the best places to hide because I looked like I was hiding. He asked me what kind of monster I was hiding from and I..."  
Jake's eyes closed again. Carlos nudged him awake.  
"...said one that could swallow up the whole Vale and he said he would hide with me and keep watch because his monsters were all trapped in shadows until it was night. He took me up to the moor beyond the trees and we sat next to some stones, big ones set in a circle. I must have slept because next I knew he shook me awake and said come. It was getting dark and I saw Palmer and..."  
Jake's head nodded forward. Carlos sat back, frowned and let him doze.

Meanwhile Earl supervised Roger's bath. Cecil stuck his head around the door. Earl smiled.  
"Roger says you found him at the stone circle."  
"Yes. I thought about all the quiet places I like to go when I want... quiet. It wasn't a new moon or a blood moon so I figured it would be safe. You like the stones, Roger?"  
The boy nodded, flicking his soapy hair.  
"Why?" asked Earl. "Tell your papas what you like about the stones, eh?"  
Roger ducked his head under water and surfaced splashing and giggling. He made a fist gesture, pointed at his mouth and his ear. Cecil nodded.  
"He said they tell him things."

Earl and Cecil escorted a cleaner boy down to the scullery where Earl warmed up more broth. Cecil sat with an arm around Roger.  
"We were worried because we lost you."  
Roger squinted up at Cecil, wondering why he was speaking out loud. Earl ruffled Roger's wet hair.  
"We worry when nobody knows where you are, sweetheart."  
Roger frowned at Papa Earl, wondering why he was speaking English. Roger thought, his eyes seeming to look for words on the table.  
"I didn't lose me. I knew where I was all the time. I was not worried about me."  
Cecil grinned.  
"I know honey. But only you knew. If you want to go out again, you have to tell someone where you are going. Will you do that?"  
Roger frowned again.  
"But I did tell. I told her."  
Earl put a bowl in front of Roger and another in front of Cecil. He handed Roger a spoon and probed for details.  
"Who did you tell? Maureen? Dana?"  
"The woman."  
Earl rolled his eyes. "What woman, Roger?"  
Roger shrugged and slurped broth from his spoon.  
"The old woman who hasn't got any face. She says she's lived here forever but people don't see her. She opened the back door for me. I like her."

==========

When Jake next woke it was light outside the small, square window in the sloping ceiling. He was wearing a clean nightshirt and lying on his side on a narrow bed. He sat up and felt faint for a few seconds. Jake heard a chair scrape and turned his head, a tall being wearing a grey dress with a white apron blinked too many eyes at him.  
"Sir Carlos said you are to see him as soon as you feel able. Your clothes are here and there might be hot water." The creature blinked again, Jake got the impression they were amused. "If not you had better clean yourself up with cold. I will show you."

Almost an hour later, Jake presented himself at the laboratory door. Roger opened it for him. Carlos flashed a smile but returned to a contemplative expression.  
"Roger, sweetie, go tell Erika and Papa like I said. Jake, sit down. Are you well? I mean physically, are you hurt, is there anything you need that I can supply?"  
Jake shook his head.  
"I... thank you for taking me in last night, Sir Carlos. I will be out of your way as soon as--"  
Carlos laughed.  
"Jake, you have been here for two and a half days alternately eating and raving and sleeping. Vansten is beside himself with fury and sorrow, he came here to see if you had _run to be with, y'know, that little turd or whatever_ and it was all I could do to keep him from searching the manor and to keep Cecil out of his way. He burst into tears several times, Erika and Erika commented on it. And you are not yet fit to travel, wherever you planned to go." 

Carlos watched Jake's face closely, guessing at his emotions.  
"I will not tell Vansten you are here. How long have you been on your own?"  
Jake snorted, biting back a snapped _my whole life!_ He thought, pulling at the wisps on his chin.  
"I left on the Thursday of the second week of May. Since then. I packed what I could and ran."  
Carlos nodded.  
"Two weeks and a day. You had no belongings with you. What happened?"  
Erika tapped on the door and brought in a tray, setting it beside Jake.  
Jake sighed. "I don't remember. I left the house, I walked a few streets away from Vansten's house and set my bag down to think where to go. I came to myself in the dark with a pain in the back of my head and no possessions but my clothes."  
"Hmm" Carlos stroked his chin. "Vansten was also upset that one of his footmen had stolen some small, valuable items, gifts he had given you apparently. The footman will not get the chance to regret his actions for long, I fear."  
Jake shuddered. He closed his eyes and hugged his knees.  
"Jake."  
Carlos waited for a response.  
"Jake!"  
Jake uncoiled and sat up. Carlos reached out but did not touch Jake's hand.  
"You can stay until you are well again but you must remain out of sight. I will try to find you a safe position within the science community. At least, a position with only the usual amount of danger a scientist experiences." Carlos giggled. "That is quite a lot, I know for I have measured it, but not danger like you are used to so it may feel quite safe compared to daily life with Vansten. I have contacts in the scientific community who have been enthused by the exploits of such as Darwin, and seek assistants for expeditions to various parts of the globe. If getting far away from Vansten was your main objective, you could do worse. Don't decide now, think on it."

Jake took a deep breath and nodded.  
"Marcus has no mercy for those he decides are disloyal. Thank you, Sir Carlos. You may... you... you saved..."  
Jake curled up again, rocked himself back and forward. Carlos murmured _I wonder where Palmer is?_ and Cecil slipped in through the hidden door beside the hearth. Cecil looked from Jake to Carlos and jerked his thumb.  
"Is he going to be all right?"  
Carlos shrugged.  
"That depends on your definition of _all right._ Perhaps I should take notes on his behaviour... hmm." Carlos stroked his chin. "For science. But I do not want to upset him any more than necessary."

Cecil watched Jake with wary eyes but the stricken man seemed not to be with them. Cecil spoke with a low voice, dropping onto the seat beside Carlos.  
"Word will get around. Vansten will be back for him, and for revenge. I heard the things he said about Jake and about me. And about you! He's wrong about Jake, you know that?"  
Carlos nodded.  
"Yes, I know. Jake does not seem to want the kind of comfort Vansten accused you of supplying."  
Cecil shrugged. "He asked a lot of questions about you after you first arrived. I thought he was looking for information to give Vansten to use against you, influence you. Then at that dinner where I almost forgot my position... well. Earl said since then Jake has had divided loyalties. He set himself up in a role he is not able to handle."  
Cecil stopped and sighed. Carlos slipped his arm around Cecil's shoulders but Cecil leaned away. "Earl said Vansten may use Jake to get to you. Influence Jake to give evidence against you. _Private_ matters. We must be careful to respect our roles, Sir Carlos. Jake is in need of care and attention but he is a threat as long as he remains under Vansten's influence." 

Carlos pointed to the man, still curled up and rocking, now moved to the floor.  
"Cee... Palmer, do you and... um... Harlan honestly think Jake is a threat?"  
Palmer nodded.  
"Imagine Jake becomes part of life here, sees what everyone else sees, knows what everyone else knows. So much part of the background that you barely notice his presence. Suppose Vansten returns for Jake, full of sweet promises and false remorse. Say Jake chooses to go back and his master persuades him to make a statement about your private life, gives Vansten something more concrete than hearsay about witnessing a kiss on the stairs? If you won't listen to me, talk to Ortiz."  
Carlos sat back with his hands in his lap and sighed.  
"I see what you mean."

At their feet, Jake sat up with his face in his hands. His voice was thick when he spoke and his face streaked when he uncovered it.  
"I would not do that, Sir Carlos, I will not go back there. I would never give Marcus anything that would damage you in any way!"  
Palmer put on his most friendly voice and helped Jake up onto a chair.  
"Well no, of course you would not do that. Not deliberately, not unless you were threatened with... hmm... think..." Cecil stroked his chin, mimicking Sir Carlos. "Just what could Vansten do to you?"  
Jake shuddered and pulled his knees up to his chest and sank his head down. He sat curled up in the chair and did not respond.


	19. Sanctuary (Or - Everyone Cries Except Earl)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning for allusions to past abuse and victim self-blame.
> 
> Jake upsets the order of life at the Manor. But it is not Jake who is the root of the problem.
> 
> Thanks, the-child-from-italy and generalcupcakery for your valuable input!

During a heated after-dinner discussion below-stairs, Sir Carlos, Harlan and Cardinal agreed that the best approach would be for Jake to be treated as a guest and given a room on the same floor as Sir Carlos, perhaps Sir Carlos's old bedchamber with its own bath, and an Erika to look after his personal needs for half an hour morning and evening. Palmer disagreed on the basis that Jake had been a valet like himself and should be lodged with the servants, and Ortiz complained that her _angels_ were overstretched as it was. Sir Carlos argued that if Jake was seen as a guest rather than a servant, he was less likely to see or hear anything he should not.

Cecil frowned at that.  
"What difference will it make? People talk everywhere. Because they are people. With mouths and words and ideas."  
Cardinal smiled.  
"No, I agree with Sir Carlos. Around servants people talk and are careless with their words because servants are not considered important enough to notice. As a guest, Jake will be visible within the manor. People, servants and other guests should there be any, will guard their words more carefully. He will hear far less than he would if Sir Carlos acquired a new footman."  
Cecil did not relent.  
"Then make him a stable hand or a groundsman! Someone who does not enter the manor for more than the time it takes to host the midwinter feast."  
Ortiz laughed and shook her head. "Like your thinking, Palmer, but he'd not last a morning in the stables. Look at 'im! Built for indoor work, he is. I suppose we'll cope. Just tell 'im not to expect to be waited on hand and foot like Cardinal here does for Miss Maureen."  
Ortiz winked at Cardinal, who looked away.

Cecil accepted Jake's position grudgingly, with a mutter of _suit yourself but I am NOT calling him sir!_ Ortiz pulled her mouth into a thin line and nodded in solidarity. Carlos shrugged.  
"Fine. He is here as my guest but I think my valet and butler want to treat him badly because he was once a servant."  
Carlos stared Cecil down. Ortiz rolled her eyes. Cecil muttered something indistinct, ending with _fine!_ and a huff.  
Carlos suppressed a laugh at Cecil's sour face. Harlan did not extend his lover that same courtesy, and giggled. Cecil scowled and left the dining room to seek refuge in the scullery. Earl and Carlos followed. Earl caught Cecil around the waist with one arm and laughed again.  
"Ha! Hey Palmer, tradition dictates that if a visiting gentleman has no valet, the master of the house should lend his own. You ready to extend your services to our honoured guest?"

Cecil shot Earl a look that would curdle milk then left the room. Carlos half turned to follow him but Earl told him to let Cecil be alone for a while. Carlos nodded to him and went after Cecil anyway. He found Cecil in the pantry, face set and arms folded.

"Can I join you?"  
Cecil shrugged. Carlos slipped into the cool, dim, tiled space and stood close to Cecil without touching him. Cecil stood in silence for a couple of minutes. Carlos waited without speaking, eventually stroking Cecil gently on the cheek. Cecil closed his eyes and took a deep breath, unwrapping his arms and taking Carlos’s hand.  
“Carlos, I could lose you. _He_ could ruin this by accident and not look back. He doesn’t care for us… he…”  
Carlos sighed in the gloom.  
“Ceece we have to give him a chance. I can’t throw him out or send him back to Vansten. You don’t have to like him and I am not going to tell you do anything for him. Ceece, honey, I want you to do something for me.”  
Cecil looked up. “Anything!”  
Carlos held Cecil close and kissed his forehead.  
“I want you to tolerate Jake’s presence here. Be kind. It won’t be forever. We will have to be careful but, hey, that might be fun!”  
Cecil could not hold on to his surly mood. He smiled and leaned against Carlos. Carlos sniggered.  
“Just think, we are going to have to sneak around Jake without him knowing we are any more than master and valet and cook.”  
Cecil giggled.  
"Neat!"

By the time Carlos emerged from the pantry, Earl was sitting at the preparation table waiting for them. Carlos opened the door wide to let Cecil out too. Earl looked concerned.  
"Well?" One of Earl's eyebrows raised.  
Carlos smiled. Cecil huffed a little but Earl laughed.  
"He's all tucked up safe in his new bed. Come here, sweetheart." Earl patted his lap. Cecil sat, threw an arm around Earl's neck and kissed him. Earl stroked Cecil's back and looked into his eyes. "We should all go to bed too. Ceece, you see to Carlos then come up to our old room in the attic. While _he_ is here, we are Harlan and Palmer again, snatching what brief pleasures we can whilst fantasising about our handsome Sir Carlos."  
"Hey!" Carlos laughed. "Oh stop! You mean I have to sleep alone? Huh. I really did not think this through!"

Carlos kissed Earl and Cecil once each on the cheek, and traipsed off to bed. Cecil held Earl tight for a minute longer and followed Carlos to fulfil his duties as valet. Earl checked over the kitchens and headed up the back stairs to his favourite little garret, full of memories of Cecil crawling into bed beside him with some or other excuse until Earl had simply asked Cecil one night if he wanted comfort, watched Cecil's eyes glint back, and kissed him. 

Carlos struggled out of his undershirt. Cecil silently helped Carlos into his nightshirt. Carlos got up onto his bed and patted the space beside him. Cecil looked troubled. Carlos patted the bed again.  
"Oh Ceece, relax. This is our private space, you are supposed to be here with me."  
"Sir Ca... Ah my dear Carlos, I should see you settled and go to my own room. I will wake you with coffee. Goodnight."  
Cecil turned to leave but Carlos bounded out of bed and intercepted him.  
"Ceece!" Carlos looked troubled now too. "Not even a kiss? Are you so upset with me for giving Jake sanctuary?"  
Cecil sighed and lifted his face to kiss Carlos properly. Carlos wrapped his arms around Cecil's back, and Cecil's hands found Carlos's hair. Carlos lifted Cecil and carried him to bed, lay beside him and kissed him some more. Eventually Cecil smiled.  
"Damn you for cheering me up. I wanted to wallow for longer."  
Carlos laughed.  
"Fine, you can go to whichever bed you please now."  
Cecil stroked Carlos's face then stood up.  
"I will go to my own. I'm tired, Carlos."  
Carlos nodded, got up and walked Cecil to the door, kissed him goodnight.  
Two doors away, Jake lay awake in borrowed nightclothes, in a bed that smelled of lavender and rose, speculating fearfully about what Carlos might ask in payment for his stay.

Life at the manor settled down to a new normal over the next few days. Cecil avoided Jake, which was not difficult because Jake spent much of his time either alone in his room or with Carlos in the laboratory, and Carlos warned Cecil in advance when he planned to invite Jake to assist with science. Cecil confided his fears in Earl, Dana, Josie, and anyone who cared to listen, except for Carlos. Even Miss Maureen was not immune and took to checking passageways before scuttling from room to room.

The one factor that prevented Cecil from actively making Jake unwelcome was that Roger seemed to like him. While Roger had not climbed up into Jake’s lap and demanded stories, like he did with his papas, grandpa and Maureen, Cecil found Roger one morning showing Jake his collection of interesting rocks and explaining in excruciating detail why they were important. Jake did not see Cecil watching, and wore an expression that betrayed neither boredom nor any trace of a wish to be elsewhere. Jake, thought Cecil, was a very accomplished actor.

Jake was glad of the solitude. Sometimes he wrote neat lines on paper borrowed from Sir Carlos, but mostly he allowed his mind to wander. He liked the boy, Roger, and found his babbling enthusiasm for ordinary things a useful diversion from his own deeper, darker thoughts. Mornings spent with Carlos were uncomfortable for reasons that altered over the course of a week. 

At first when Carlos requested that Jake attend him in his laboratory, Jake entered with trepidation, staying close to the door until asked by Carlos to sit on the sofa. He answered when asked direct questions, truthful yet evasive, making Carlos frown. By the end of the week, Jake showed Carlos enough signs of trust for Carlos to attempt a deeper understanding of his experiences. 

"Jake," Carlos put his clipboard down, took off his lab coat and sat in the chair opposite his guest. "What was it like, living with Marcus?"  
Jake frowned at the question, which meant he frowned at Carlos.  
"What do you mean?"  
Carlos sat back and looked at the ceiling.  
"I mean, day to day. How did you... how did you get along with him?"  
Jake snorted.  
"With difficulty. Marcus had a way of making it clear to me what he expected without actually saying anything direct. I complied with his... desires as far as I could."  
"Oh." Carlos tapped his chin. "Palmer told me you asked him if I was a considerate employer. Was Marcus not considerate?"  
Jake looked Carlos in the eye for the first time.  
"Marcus made me feel like I owed him a debt I could not repay."  
"Ah." the scientist frowned and thought. "You owe him money?"  
Jake laughed and shook his head. Jake wept, head in hands. Carlos watched Jake's shoulders heave and handed him a clean handkerchief. 

When Jake recovered, he looked up to find Carlos watching him, concern evident in his wide eyes and wrinkled brow.  
"You see, Marcus would have been sweet to me just then, arms around me, murmuring in my ear, offering me gifts." Jake closed his eyes and took two breaths. "Then," eyes open, "he would have invited me to his bedchamber to _make us both forget I was ever sad_ and touched me under my clothes, or put my hand on himself. I spent half of my time trying to please Marcus, and half evading his advances. He was convinced I had a lover here at the Manor. Hah!"  
Jake wiped his face again and offered Carlos a challenging glare. Carlos smiled.  
"Mmhmm, Palmer? Actually," Carlos grinned. "At one time I half thought you and Palmer might have had something but I know that is not the case."  
Jake scowled.  
"Why are you and Marcus both obsessed about the possibility of me taking a lover? It's pathetic!"  
Carlos, eyebrows high and eyes wide, raised both palms.  
"Oh! Jake, I did not mean anything by it, my comment was entirely in jest! I have offended you and I apologise."  
"I do not need to love physically. I have no desire for a lover. Quite the opposite. I desire to be left in peace."  
Carlos forced a smile.  
"That is entirely up to you. No one at the Manor will offer you attention you do not invite. You will be left as alone as you want. But..."  
"What?" Jake snapped.  
Carlos sighed.  
"Don't you get lonely?"

Carlos was unprepared for Jake's inward flux of emotion. Jake's face crumpled and he curled up, rocking himself back and forward. Carlos sat and watched for a moment, shook his head and moved over to perch on the sofa beside Jake.  
"Jake, tell me if I am upsetting you more?"  
Carlos almost put an arm around Jake's shoulders but dropped his hand back into his lap.  
"Jake? I will never... I am not Marcus. Do you understand me?"  
Jake controlled his breathing. He kept his head down and his arms clasped around his knees, but Carlos saw a nod.  
"You are safe with us here, Jake. No one will touch you without invitation."  
Jake held out one hand. Carlos looked at it for a few seconds then smiled and clasped it in his own. Jake pulled Carlos's hand towards himself and mumbled something.  
"I'm sorry Jake, I did not hear that."  
Jake mumbled again and Carlos understood. He put his arms around Jake and held him for some minutes, not noticing the hidden door beside the hearth click closed.

Earl swore at the range and it lit. He turned to Roger, who was giggling, and made him promise never to repeat the words he had just heard, especially not to Miss Maureen. Roger ran off with a promise that he was not going further than the henhouse and did not need to be followed. Earl made as if to follow anyway but Ortiz stopped him.  
"He won't run off again for a while," Josie smiled. "And I have Erika watching over him."  
Ortiz continued on her way to the cellar to choose wine for dinner. Cecil almost ran into her in his haste to get to the kitchen. Cecil linked his arm in Earl's and pulled him to the pantry.

"I knew it!" Cecil threw his arms around Earl's neck and burst into tears. "I've lost!"  
Earl frowned at the top of Cecil's head and slipped his arms around Cecil's waist.  
"Lost? Lost what?"  
"Ca-a-a-arlo-o-os!"  
Cecil wailed.  
Earl sighed and kissed Cecil's head.  
"Bet you've not. What happened, sweetheart?"  
Between sobs, Cecil relayed a tale of going to check if Carlos needed anything and finding him on the sofa with _that Jake_ in his arms.  
"Jake was all curled up. He had his head on Carlos's shoulder," Cecil snivelled, "and Carlos had his eyes closed. They looked... They looked like... hnnngh!"

Earl held Cecil and rocked him gently.  
"Hmm, Ceece my love, you know Carlos holds _me_ close sometimes. Does that upset you?"  
Cecil pulled away and glared through wet eyelashes.  
"That's different! Earl, you know that is a different thing."  
"But why, Ceece? Why is he allowed to canoodle with me and not with Jake? Do you think he loves you less because of it?"  
"MAYBE!" Cecil tried to wave his arms but Earl caught his hands before he knocked anything off the shelves. "I don't know!" Cecil sniffed. Earl rummaged in a pocket and produced a mostly-clean handkerchief.  
"Come here, my lovely." Earl dried Cecil's face only for Cecil to start weeping again. "Have you discussed this with Carlos at all?"  
Cecil shook his head.  
"So-o-o, let me see, you were behind the door and you looked through and you saw Carlos, our sweet Sir Carlos, give his guest a hug. Mmm?"  
Cecil nodded.  
"And you think that means Carlos is tired of you?"  
Cecil nodded again. In the gloom, Earl rolled his eyes.  
"I see. This is a serious matter."  
Cecil snivelled.  
"I know!"  
Earl smiled.  
"I will tell you what to do. Yes?"  
Cecil nodded.  
"Fine. You go to Sir Carlos's bedchamber. I will meet you there as soon as I can and we can talk properly. Carlos won't look for either of us there. Got that?"  
Cecil nodded and muttered _thank-you_ before slipping out of the pantry.  
Earl scribbled a note with beetroot juice on a scrap of brown paper wrapper and asked Erika to deliver it to Sir Carlos in ten minutes. 

Carlos stared at the note.  
_bed now please EH_  
It could not possibly mean what it said, thought Carlos, not coming from Earl. Carlos thanked Erika and stuffed the note into a pocket. He shook Jake's shoulder gently.  
"Jake? I am going to take you to your room and leave you there on your own for a while. Do you understand?"  
Jake nodded and sat up. He stood and allowed Carlos to lead him upstairs, walked through the door Carlos held for him and waited to hear it close. Jake looked at the pretty wrought iron key protruding from the lock. He reached out and touched its cold whorls but took his hand away again. Jake sat on his bed, lay down and closed his eyes. After a few seconds he got up and locked his door.

Carlos listened to the key turn and shook his head. He read the note in his pocket again and pushed open the door of his own room, closing it completely before looking around. A figure in plain black uniform lay face down on the bed. Carlos frowned.  
"Ceece, honey, are you unwell?"  
Cecil did not move. Carlos sat on the bed beside him and laid a hand on his back, between his shoulders.  
"Ceece? What happened?"  
Cecil's voice was muffled by the pillows.  
"Earl was supposed to come up, not you. He said we could talk."  
Carlos rubbed slow circles onto Cecil's back.  
"You want to talk to me instead?"  
Cecil's face disappeared between two pillows.  
"No."  
"Very well. Should I ask Earl what happened?"  
"No!"  
"Then you will have to tell me! Cecil, I love you and I hate to see you upset."  
Muffled, _you were not supposed to see me._  
Cecil's head lifted clear of the pillows but he did not look at Carlos.  
"You love me?"  
Carlos smiled.  
"Yes! I love you, Cecil. I never thought about saying so out loud until now. I assumed you knew! I am a bad scientist for making such unfounded assumptions."

Cecil turned his red, puffy face towards Carlos. Carlos lay beside Cecil and hugged him, kissing his warm cheeks and damp eyes.  
"Please, Ceece, tell me what's got you into this state."  
Cecil sighed and buried his face in Carlos's shoulder.  
"I saw you holding Jake and I thought you had chosen him over me. I thought you loved Jake and not me. He's clever, unlike me, he's handsome in his own way, he can pass as a gentleman when he chooses, he looks down on me so much, he acts like he needs you more... I thought... ugh."  
Carlos kissed the top of Cecil's head but said nothing. Cecil sighed again.  
"If Jake could manipulate a monster like Vansten, surely he could manipulate you too. Worm his way into your affections and take my place."

Carlos thought for a moment. Should he be sympathetic? Should he laugh at the ridiculousness of Cecil's fears? Carlos chose to frown.  
"Cecil Palmer, I am hurt and offended that you would think me capable of treating you so badly. Have I ever given you cause to think I would hurt you like that?"  
Cecil groaned.  
"Uuuh I made it worse! I wish I had said nothing."  
He tried to sit up but Carlos held him still.  
"Oh, Cecil, Ceece, wait. What can we do about this?"  
Cecil pushed Carlos off and stood up, brushed down his uniform and bolted from the room.

Earl felt the whirlwind as the pantry door slammed shut. He looked at Erika and sighed.  
"Erika? Would you mind serving the below-stairs lunch? It's chicken soup and bread."  
Erika trilled and nodded, tucking what Earl thought, glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, looked like wings neatly away from the heat of the range, if only such a thing was possible. Earl tried the pantry door. It did not open.  
"Cecil? Let me in. I know you're holding the door."  
The knob turned and the door opened a crack. Earl pulled it and went in. Cecil slumped to the floor.  
"I spoiled everything. He said he loves me then he said I offended him. He can't love me now."  
Earl found a metal tin and hunkered down beside Cecil. He opened the tin.  
"Want some rhubarb sponge and you can tell me exactly what happened?"  
Cecil nodded. He looked into the tin.  
"Is there any custard? Cold is fine."  
Earl smiled, kissed Cecil's temple and reached a jug from the top shelf.  
"I had plans for this but your need is greater. Wait... ERI... Oh! Thanks!"  
Two spoons slid under the pantry door. While Earl retrieved the spoons, Cecil poured the entire jug of custard into the cake tin. Earl laughed.  
"Ceece! You can't eat all that!"  
Cecil took a spoon and stabbed at the cake.  
"Shut up and eat."

Cecil and Earl sat in the cool, dark quiet eating rhubarb sponge and custard, cold out of the cake tin. Eventually Cecil dropped his spoon into the tin. Earl followed suit and set it aside. He raised his arm and Cecil scooted over to his side. Earl kissed Cecil's temple.  
"Tell me what happened."  
"Carlos said he loves me."  
Earl tightened his grip on Cecil for a second.  
"That's a good thing, right?"  
Cecil nodded.  
"But instead of telling him I love him too, I told him what I saw and that I was afraid he was going to replace me with Jake." Earl brought his other hand up to stroke Cecil's face. Cecil sighed. "He said he was hurt because I thought he'd do that. But he wanted me to tell him what was bothering me, he made me tell him and I did and it made things worse."  
Cecil dropped his head onto Earl's shoulder. Earl knew from experience that there was likely to be more.  
"I wish I had lied and said I was fine. He asked what I was going to do about it and I ran away."

Earl frowned. He waited for half a minute but Cecil did not volunteer any more information.  
"Cecil, do you trust me?"  
"Yes."  
"Will you go to Carlos's laboratory and wait? I want to talk to him and get to the bottom of this. Either I will send Carlos to you, or I will come get you. Either way, you are going to be all right."  
Cecil sniffled once.  
"Earl?"  
"Yes, honey?"  
"If Carlos doesn't love me any more, you should keep seeing him if you want. Will you?"  
"Of course not, sweetheart. It will be you and me and Carlos, or just you and me. Can we get up? My arse has gone to sleep."

Earl stood then helped Cecil up too. They left the pantry quietly and went upstairs. Earl kissed Cecil before they emerged from the hidden door under the main staircase and watched as Cecil slunk down the passageway to the laboratory. Earl headed upstairs. He asked Erika to look out for any sign of activity from Jake then tapped his usual rhythm on Carlos's door. He heard a thump and a shuffle, and the door opened. Carlos peered out. Earl smiled, pushed the door and went inside.

Carlos wiped his face. Earl wrapped his arms around Carlos and held him tight.  
"You too?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Cecil's crying because he thinks you won't love him any more and because he's an idiot. You've been crying..." Carlos shook his head but Earl looked into Carlos's eyes, "...yes you have, because you think you've upset Cecil? Is that it?"  
Carlos hugged Earl.  
"I can't make Cecil understand. I thought he'd see how improbable his fears were but I made him more upset and I did not even do anything wrong! Jake was unhappy, he wanted affection, to be held without threat of further... He's so alone, Earl! I put my arms around him for a couple of minutes. That is the extent of what happened. From that, Cecil has extrapolated... something. Something that will never happen because neither of us wants it to happen."  
Earl rubbed Carlos's back.  
"Never?"  
"Certainly not with Jake. Even if my interest was more personal than scientific, I would not replace Cecil with Jake."  
"So... you did not invite Jake into your home for personal reasons?"  
Carlos sighed and shook his head slowly. Earl smiled and kissed Carlos's cheek.  
"Come on, come with me."  
Carlos held back.  
"Where are you taking me?"  
Earl smiled.  
"To your laboratory. I think you will find the solution in there, if only you think hard enough about it."

Earl led Carlos down to his laboratory and peered around the door. Cecil sat huddled in a corner of the sofa. Earl pulled Carlos inside and closed the door.  
Carlos took one look at Cecil and froze, taking in the freshly reddened eyes and puffy face. Cecil looked up when Earl called his name, saw Carlos's expression and leapt up. Earl backed out, leaving his lovers holding tight to each other, oblivious to everything except their torrents of apologies and declarations of love. 

Jake, meanwhile, lay on his bed thinking. He was not aware of falling asleep but he woke up hungry. Jake opened his door and peered out into the corridor. A figure seemed to appear by the wall opposite. Jake jumped and stared, finding it difficult to focus on the tall figure who seemed to have too many eyes and extra limbs.  
“Oh! Erika, you startled me.”  
“Cook asked me to watch over you. You should eat. We know that humans who fail to eat fail to thrive.”  
Erika smiled at Jake and Jake closed his eyes at the sight. He nodded and Erika vanished. 

Jake retreated to his room again until a soft knocking roused him. He opened the door expecting to see Erika with a tray. It was Earl.  
“Hello, I brought food. The soup is chicken broth, don’t tell Roger but _Moby Chick_ got too old to lay, and the sandwiches are cheese. Sorry there’s no cake. Someone can’t resist leftover rhubarb sponge.”  
Earl smiled at Jake. Jake took the tray and turned away.  
“Um, Jake?” Jake waited, half-looking back over his shoulder so that Earl saw his profile. “Can we talk sometime? Not now if you don’t want, but maybe later? Palmer is busy with Sir Carlos in the laboratory and Maureen has taken Roger to see his grandfather so it’s quiet below-stairs.”  
Jake neither agreed nor disagreed but let the door close gently behind him. Earl shrugged at Erika and returned to his domain. 

Some time later, while Earl sat in the scullery frowning at a new recipe Carlos had suggested for some kind of chicken dish that guests had to put together for themselves, Earl heard a clatter. He looked up to see Jake at the sink, washing his lunch crockery.  
“Jake? Erika will do that. You are a guest.”  
Jake shrugged and continued until his dishes were clean.  
“It feels strange to be here. Um. Thank you for lunch.”  
“Sit,” Earl pushed a stool towards Jake. Jake perched at the table, around a corner from Earl.  
“What did you want to talk about?”  
“Cecil saw Sir Carlos comforting you and now he thinks you are going to manipulate Sir Carlos into getting rid of him, and have you in his place.”  
Jake’s eyebrows shot up and he scraped his stool back a few inches.  
“What? Why!” Jake shook his head. “Harlan, I have no intention of... Sir Carlos has been kind to me. I would never seek...”  
Earl smiled.  
“I know. I know.” Earl returned to the recipe in front of him. “Cecil also is afraid that you will go back to Vansten and give him evidence of a particular kind of wrongdoing with Sir Carlos. Do you know what I am talking about?”  
Jake gripped the edge of the table and nodded.  
“I have never seen, nor will I ever seek, any evidence that could incriminate my host in that way. Whatever I may feel personally about anything that happens in the private spaces of this house, I will not provide Marcus with anything to hurt Sir Carlos.”  
Earl nodded.  
“Good man. All I have to do now is make sure you don’t have any plans involving Cecil”

Jake stood up.  
“I don’t see how I possibly could. Cecil won’t even look at me.”  
“No?” Earl raised both eyebrows. “Sit down, sit down, Jake. Please. Cecil used to look forward to your little trips below stairs when Vansten used to visit Sir Carlos with that awful dragon of a man. He'd come down to the kitchen to tell me if you'd glanced at him or smiled. I wonder what changed.”  
Jake sat and rubbed his jaw.  
“I don’t know! He was always friendly towards me but stopped, maybe after I questioned him about whether Sir Carlos treated him well or not, whether Sir Carlos ever… expected too much of him. Maybe I asked too many personal questions. He, um, he offered to show me but I declined.”  
Earl’s hand covered his mouth. He moved to reveal a grin.  
“Cecil offered to show you what he and Sir Carlos did in private and you turned him down cold with no apology or explanation?”  
Jake frowned.  
“Yes, I suppose so.” Jake frowned, then his face fell as he realised. “Oh! Oh no, did Palmer mean… was he offering… um… to…”

Earl roared with laughter.  
“Cecil is the kind of person who wants to show you if he likes you, and he falls in and out of love so easily. He dropped hints, and not subtle ones, at Sir Carlos for a year before Carlos responded. I think Cecil was upset by your rejection because he built it up in his head into something it was not. If that’s all it is…”  
Jake shook his head.  
“I think there’s more. I told Cecil I hated the way Marcus watched me, looked at me, touched me. I called Marcus weak and disgusting for having such a base need for satisfaction, for being so easily steered by his… his… um…. anatomy. I may have implied that people whose minds dwell on such physical pleasures are somehow beneath those of us who do not feel driven to take intimate comfort from another’s presence.”  
Earl chewed over Jake’s admission.  
“Do you think… do you really think that Cecil is a lesser being because of the way he loves?”

Jake rubbed his jaw again.  
"Maybe. I have become so accustomed to Marcus's coercion, and before Marcus there were others who used their position to make me do things I regret. I associate the pursuit of such physical gratification with weak-willed, disgusting, abusers of humanity."  
Earl scowled and reddened.  
"Cecil is one of the most beautiful, loving people I have ever met! He likes physical intimacy. It hurts no one where it is a fair exchange of pleasure, agreed and--"  
"That's it, Earl," Jake cut off Earl's argument. "Fair exchange! Agreed! I would rather not agree to it, I do not find it fair. With Marcus I did what I could stand to do for the purpose of keeping a roof over my head and a guarantee of meals. Marcus felt pleasure, I felt disgust with him for... for not even noticing I was repelled, for working again and again to wear me down until my lips said yes but my core screamed no. And disgust at myself for not being strong enough to prevent it or clever enough to find a way out."

Earl softened his expression, but only a little.  
"Cecil meant you no harm. He liked you, he offered to demonstrate that physically but you turned him down flat and that hurt him enough that he has never mentioned it even to me. Can you see how that rejection might hurt someone whose love is so open and so honestly shared?"  
Jake nodded and pointed at his own chest.  
"Can you see how someone who does not experience those desires might misinterpret his words and actions?"

Earl nodded. He offered Jake tea and Jake accepted. They sat with Earl's signature brew, so famed for flavour that Cardinal kept her own tea and only ever asked for hot water. Jake sipped carefully and made a face.  
"Mmm," Earl smiled. "Can't beat it. Jake, are you telling me you never look at someone and think, _I want that_ or fantasise about going over to them and... you know."  
"No," Jake put his cup down. Earl refilled it. "Not ever. I never have, it was a great surprise to me to hear colleagues at the bank speculate about bedding clients. I was not interested. I found their fantasies dull and a little off-putting."  
Jake took another sip, holding his cup just out of Earl's reach.  
"So..." Earl scrabbled around the bottom of the word barrel. "Perhaps you just haven't met the right person yet."  
Jake clattered his cup down.  
"I assure you that I have met a good number of people and, although I would like to have had the freedom to be on friendly terms with some of them, I have experienced no desire beyond pleasant affection."  
"Huh." Earl refilled Jake's cup before Jake could snatch it away. "You don't experience that hot flash of desire for another being?"  
"I cannot even imagine what that feels like."  
Earl grinned.  
"With the right person, it's fucking amazing."

Jake smiled. "Is Cecil the right person? No, please don't answer. I want no details."  
Earl laughed.  
"For the longest time Cecil gave me something to think about when I... umm... Jake, do you take pleasure by yourself?"  
Jake frowned.  
"What do you mean?"  
He sipped tea. Earl elaborated.  
"Do you touch yourself for pleasure?'  
Jake coughed and spluttered. He heaved and wheezed his reply.  
"Do I _what?"_  
Earl reached for a cloth.  
"I don't mean to be impertinent, Jake, I want to understand. Do you masturbate, and if you do, what do you think about while you, you know, do it?"  
Jake's face warmed and his hand shook as he replaced his cup on the table.  
"Um, for the sake of _understanding,_ yes I do occasionally and what I think about is none of your business! Certainly," Jake glowered at Earl, "not you or Palmer or Sir Carlos." Jake smirked, "I focus on the task, uh, in hand."  
Earl laughed and Jake grinned.

"Jake," Earl followed Jake to the sink to wash up his tea cup. "Can I ask one more thing?"  
Jake rolled his eyes. "Is it personal?"  
"No, no..." Earl frowned. "Yes. Um... Cecil got upset because he saw Sir Carlos with his arms around you. What happened?"  
Jake sighed.  
"I barely remember. Was that this morning? I was afraid and alone, Sir Carlos asked questions I did not want to answer and I withdrew into myself. He was kind, he did not rush to comfort me. I asked him, I said I wanted to feel affection, to feel that I was loved rather than desired."  
Earl looked at Jake with sympathy.  
"I bet you didn't get much of that from Vansten. Look, dinner is usually around eight. Will you join Cecil, Sir Carlos and me in the dining room above-stairs for an informal dinner of whatever the fuck this is that he asked me to make?"  
Earl pointed at the recipe. Jake looked uncertain.  
"I have caused a lot of upset today. I should eat alone, out of the way."  
Earl turned his blue eyes to Jake's amber-brown.  
"No, you are not the cause of any of this upset. We should all eat together and talk shite. Like _we've_ been doing."  
Jake shook his head.  
"If you think it is a good idea. I have my doubts. Um, Earl?"  
"Mmhmm?"  
"I may have to... umm... I may become emotional and need to leave. Will Sir Carlos think badly of me if I bolt?"  
Earl shrugged.  
"Sir Carlos is going to be almost entirely focused on Palmer. I doubt he'd notice supposing we fu... got personally acquainted over dessert. Except there isn't any."  
Jake smiled.  
"Because someone likes rhubarb sponge?"


	20. Travelling Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil tells stories. Jake is not amused.

Dinner was called above and below stairs. Ortiz and Cardinal remained below with the footmen and maids, Harlan and Palmer ferried dishes above stairs to the dining room. Sir Carlos gathered up the silverware and smiled at Earl.  
"This is a dish my mama sometimes made for us. Watch."  
Carlos demonstrated, folding a rough circle of corn bread around spiced chicken and peppers.  
"Sit, eat. Earl?" Carlos chewed and smiled. "This is really good. Thank you."  
Grinning, Earl visibly puffed up.

Jake sat silent while Carlos and Cecil sat quietly close to each other, knees touching under the table, and Earl sighed at the rapidly cooling dishes on the table. Maureen instructed Roger to sit up straight but the boy still could not reach the table comfortably. Earl poured wine into five glasses. Cecil poured a third of his into Roger's glass and topped it up with water. Maureen scowled, picked up Roger's glass and poured it onto a planter on her way out of the room to find a cushion for Roger's chair.

Earl looked at Cecil in disbelief.  
"Ceece, he's five years old! That's way too young."  
Cecil shrugged.  
"Don't see why, he's going to have to learn to like wine at some point if he's to be a gentleman."  
Maureen returned and sided with Earl.  
"Five year olds do not get wine--"  
"I'm SIX!" Roger pouted. "I want to be six. Can I be six, papa?"  
Earl grinned.  
"Certainly, you might be. You need a birthday. How about midsummer? That's two weeks away. Carlos, may I take Roger's birthday off to celebrate with his grandfather, from mid afternoon until breakfast?"  
Roger looked delighted. He clapped his hands and swung his feet.  
"Can I be seven, papa? I want to be seven." Roger turned to the papa he thought the most likely to be indulgent. "Papa Carlos? If I am good please may I be seven?"  
Papa Carlos laughed. "You can be seven, but not until next year. This year you will be six and probably too young for wine. Earl, of course you can have Roger's birthday off. We can all celebrate."  
Earl smiled, saving further arrangements for nearer the time.

Jake sipped his wine in silence. Opposite, Carlos and Cecil glanced at each other but found they couldn't look away and gazed without shame. Maureen caught Jake's eyes and rolled hers theatrically, Jake flashed a nervous smile at Maureen. Earl ate and chatted with Roger until Roger yawned and demanded a story. Earl went to lift him but Maureen, disappointed by the apparent lack of dining table drama, intervened.  
"I'll take him up to bed and see him settled. Roger, you can have a story later when your Papas are done with dinner."  
Maureen let Roger kiss each papa goodnight in Irish, Spanish or sign language.

Earl waited for the door to close then grinned at Cecil.  
"Do we get a bedtime story after dinner too?"  
Cecil laughed and waggled his eyebrows.  
"If you are _very_ good I might tell you a story about my travels."  
Jake raised his eyebrows.  
"You have travelled beyond the Vale? I've lived my whole life in the few streets between the orphanage, the bank and the Vansten residence."  
Cecil bristled.  
"Yes, I have travelled! Do you doubt it?"  
Jake shook his head.  
"No! I have given offence, however unintentional the insult, and I beg your pardon. I would like to hear your travel tales, if you care to tell them."

Earl looked at Carlos, hoping for a friendly voice of reason, waiting to hear Carlos ask Cecil to save his story for a more suitable occasion. But Carlos laughed.  
"I would also enjoy hearing about your travels, Cecil. I did not know you had travelled! I mean, I knew you are a traveller but... Please, entertain us. We can play billiards and drink Armagnac and you can tell us of your adventures."  
Earl closed his eyes and shook his head, realising he was the only one who knew how Cecil was so intimately familiar with the works of Michelangelo.

The four finished eating and moved to the billiards room. Cecil and Earl played against Carlos and Jake, with Cecil embellishing his story between turns.

"Once upon a time..."  
Earl groaned, sank his head into his hands and shook his head slowly from side to side. Cecil laughed.  
"Once upon a time there was a young trainee valet who got himself into a little trouble with a Baronet. The Baronet was a friend of the Young Master, and _very_ handsome, although falling far short of our own, dear Sir Carlos in both looks and temperament."  
Carlos giggled.  
"Oh stop, Cecil!"  
Cecil kissed Carlos on the cheek. Jake looked away.

"Mister Burton, the Elder Master's valet, suggested that to cool things off somewhat, the trainee valet... oh he needs a name. Earl, what should I call the trainee Valet?'  
Earl sighed. "Cecil. Let's call him _Cecil."_  
Carlos sniggered. Cecil shrugged. Jake took his turn.  
"Oh good shot. Fine. _Cecil_ the trainee valet, recently out of love and out of luck with the nobility, was instructed by Burton to be valet to the Young Master on his Grand Tour. The Young Master was to take a steam locomotive to the coast, a boat to Franchia and travel through all the major cultural centres for a few months of spring and summer. Cecil was to tag along and make sure the Young Master was well turned out and always where he was meant to be at the right time."

“Cecil accompanied the Young Master as far as the Franchian coastline, where they shared accommodation for one pleasant night because the Young Master wanted to know _exactly_ why his pretty valet was in trouble. But in the morning, Cecil found their room empty save for himself, a note instructing him to return home if he wanted and some money for the journey."

Cecil took his turn without care, eager to get on with his story and eliciting sighs of annoyance from Earl and smiles from Jake and Carlos.

> Cecil decided that since he was not expected back at the manor until autumn, he could travel for the summer months. He passed quickly through Franchia, stayed a while in Svitz with a most delightfully cheerful companion who was very knowledgeable about local herbs, and moved on to Luftnarp where families are so welcoming.

Cecil paused, smiling at an unspoken memory. Earl prodded him with his billiards cue.

> Cecil travelled without purpose. He travelled alone or with such travelling companions as were offered by chance. He earned a day’s wages here and there when money ran out, slept in vineyards and olive groves or the beds of whoever he fancied, travelled on foot or in the back of wagons that trundled the distances between villages and towns. He thought of his mother, who left when he was younger to go on her last travels, or so he was told, because Cecil kept catching glimpses of people who looked like her. Or resembled his childish memories of her, or something like that.

Carlos finished his turn and frowned.  
"The Young Master had no business leaving Cecil like that. Did Cecil love him much? Was he upset?"  
"Oh!" Cecil pursed his lips and inclined his head. "A little hurt, yes, Cecil loved him plenty, but not for very long. Cecil was grateful for the opportunity the Young Master's absence presented."  
Carlos smiled at Cecil then watched Earl take his turn, leaning forward on the table. Cecil joined Carlos to watch Earl wriggle into position and take his shot. Jake frowned, thinking that the best view of Earl's billiards skills was from his position in front. Earl stood, stretched and rolled his eyes.  
"Seriously, Cecil? Carlos?"  
Cecil giggled then continued his tale. Earl chuckled in advance. Cecil winked at him.

> So, a young man with particular skills and in need of a travelling companion, met up with a group of travellers in need of a young man with particular skills. Cecil stumbled one evening into a traveller camp and was initially treated with threatening suspicion. But the matriarch took Cecil's hands, not yet rough with age or labour, felt the ridges and crevices of his palms and declared that he would, um, _fill a hole_ left by another member. Cecil, grateful to be allowed to remain by the fire and delighted to be handed a bowl of something edible, asked few questions.
> 
> The old woman watched Cecil eat then called him over. She told Cecil that he looked the part and had skilfully talked his way out of a beating and into their company. She asked about Cecil's parentage and he told her what little he knew.  
>  'A traveller who settled?' She shook her iron head. 'Do not settle for anything less than you are worth, boy.'
> 
> Cecil put the old woman's words from his mind. Next day around noon, the old woman called for Cecil. He presented himself and she taught him the basics of fortune telling over the afternoon.  
>  'Pick the young men who look lost,' she instructed. 'Ask if they are concerned about their forthcoming marriage. Most are here for advice on love. Judge their mood and the likely weight of their purse. Steer them to the decision they ache to make but lack the courage for.'  
>  She stared deep into Cecil and added, 'Something tells me you are just the man for the job. Get dressed up.'
> 
> It was evening, the sun low on the horizon painted the highest clouds with fire. Cecil followed the woman's youngest companion into her painted wooden conveyance and took the outfit he was given. The girl, who called herself Jofranka although everyone else called her Tawni, helped him put it on, made him kneel so she could arrange his hair and fasten his headscarf and veil. How Cecil wished for a forbidden mirror to see himself all gussied up in red and purple silk, chains of golden coins glinting no less for being fake adorning his forehead and stuffed bodice, shoulders bare but covered with the thinnest of fine scarves, jewelled rings and bangles on both hands! The girl smiled and called him pretty and Cecil laughed and thanked her. One final preparation, he held still whilst Jofranka applied kohl and a hint of rouge to his face. She clapped and sent Cecil out for inspection.
> 
> The matriarch was pleased and sent 'Tawni' to help set up the rest of the camp for their evening activities. After dark, local people from the nearby villages and town arrived in ones and twos, singles and couples looking for herbs or foresight. Some arrived in groups to pick fights or gawk but soon left when faced with the wrath of the three haystack brothers, so named because of the sum of their joint intellectual ability, not because they got their impressive strength from farm labour, but nobody needed to know that secret. Cecil's position was on a stool by a table inside a small pointed tent made from gaudy fabric and dripping with the same false gold. There was a clear bowl, upside down on the table, that Cecil was instructed to stare into and moan when he needed time to think. The tent was held open but could be closed if a customer desired it. Cecil sat and waited.
> 
> It did not take long. A steady stream of people walked to and fro outside the tent. Cecil emerged and, with nerves set in jelly, sashayed up to a gentleman. Keeping his voice light, Cecil introduced himself as _Signora Cecilia_ who saw everything, and invited the man to sit with her. The man followed Cecilia's beckoning finger into the tent.  
>  'I sense you are a man with insurmountable uncertainty. Tell me, sir, are preparations for your impending nuptials not proceeding as you hoped?'  
>  Well. The man dropped his face into his hands and shook with despair at the hopelessness of his future. Signora Cecilia offered comfort, she reached out a hand and shimmied her bodice but the man leaned away. Cecilia grasped the man's reluctant paw anyway and made a show of tracing the lines on its palm.  
>  'You are not enamoured of the lucky young lady you are to promise to love above all others. You have no wish to hurt her but you cannot face living with such a terrible lie.'  
>  The man stared, mouth open.  
>  'How... How could you know that!'  
>  Cecilia narrowed her eyes.  
>  'For silver I may shed light on your fortune. For gold I will reveal a secret.'  
>  Cecilia was disappointed that the man possessed only silver. He gave the gentleman a mouthful of stock-in-trade advice and held the tent flap open for him to leave. But Cecilia had better luck with clients as she became more adept at steering their supplications and reading the unspoken language of their general demeanour. Shortly after midnight, a gentleman of uncertain years settled opposite Signoria Cecilia. Cecilia sighed and crinkled her eyes at the man, reached out a hand.  
>  'I am Signoria Cecilia who sees all. Show me your palm.'

Cecil turned to face Carlos and took his hand, palm uppermost. He traced lines with a fingertip. Carlos giggled and strained not to snatch his hand away. Cecil smiled and massaged Carlos's hand with his thumbs before letting go.

> 'I see unhappiness displayed clear before me.'  
>  Cecilia stole a look at the man's tired face and modest but good quality clothing.  
>  'You are hard working and successful, but there is something missing from your life. You have not yet married but...'  
>  Cecilia glanced up at the man's face again. His expression had not changed, there was no hint of astonishment or disbelief, no delight at his trouble being correctly assessed by a handsome stranger. Cecilia frowned.  
>  'Yours is a difficult matter. Place your hands here.'  
>  Cecilia indicated the glass bowl and the man touched it with his fingers. Cecilia placed her hands over his and gazed through the glass at the warped image of the tablecloth beneath. She hummed quietly and closed her eyes. When she opened them, the man was staring at her. Cecilia gazed back into green eyes. She dropped her voice a little.
> 
> 'I see that you have no wish to marry. You are under pressure to provide grandchildren for your parents to spoil, but you do not want to because--'  
>  The man's hands grabbed Cecilia's and squeezed. His face reddened.  
>  'What do you imply?'  
>  'Only that you desire the company of women but only that. More intimate acts you would rather commit with--'  
>  He looked away with such pain in his eyes that Cecil felt a pang of sympathy. Cecil removed his veil and held the man's hands. In his normal voice, Cecil reassured his customer that he could find love if he knew where to look. The man sighed and told Cecil that he rarely had opportunity to meet others like himself, meaning others who would be companions for more than just a few minutes down by the dockyards after dark. Cecil stroked the man's face and told him he had beautiful eyes. The man smiled, kissed Cecil's hand and asked if he may return the next night. The coin he dropped into the dish on the table glinted gold.
> 
> Over the next few nights, Signora Cecilia became a popular attraction at the camp, offering a comforting hand to those most desperate cases. After his last sighing and smiling customer had left each evening, the man with green eyes would slip inside the gaudy tent and help Cecil remove his veil. Cecil learned, amongst other things, that the man was called Francesco and he painted portraits for a living. He was neither rich nor poor which to the travellers meant he was rich enough to be allowed to remain in camp longest, until all the less well-off gawkers and missionaries had been persuaded to leave.
> 
> On the fourth night of their acquaintance, Jofranka called from outside the tent, 'Signora Cecilia? Signora Morjiana asks that you see your client safe home tonight.'  
>  'Oh? Cecil asked, then 'Oh?' Cecilia asked. Jofranka giggled.  
>  'Signora Morjiana asks that you leave Cecilia behind for you have no need of her.'  
>  'Oh!' Cecil frowned. 'Oh.'  
>  Francesco touched Cecil's cheek.  
>  'Is something wrong?'  
>  'Maybe,' Cecil replied, his voice low and flat. 'I will do as Morjiana asks because I have no wish to upset the Haystacks, but I would speak with her first.'
> 
> They agreed to meet by the entrance to the camp. Cecil gathered up his skirts and strode over to Morjiana's abode, barely more than a hut on wheels. He knocked on the side and Morjiana's wrinkled face grinned at him from the entrance flap. She blew him a kiss.  
>  'Go be with your rich man, Cecil, you've done well for us but it is time we moved on so it is also time you moved on. Speak kindly to him and he will treat you well until it is again time for you to move on, but do not settle for less than you are worth.'
> 
> With that, Morgiana's head retracted into the cart like some monstrous turtle and Cecil never saw her again. For after he escorted Francesco to his home and spent a night and day lounging in the artist's studio wearing little but a loincloth and some olive oil, Cecil returned to the camp to find only rough patches of yellowed grass to betray the recent positions of tents, and charred circles where once were hearths.
> 
> Francesco was a good man and Cecil loved him enough, although always suspecting that Francesco's affections, though sincere, were temporary. Cecil acted as assistant, model and companion for as long as it took for Francesco to stop looking up with a smile as soon as Cecil entered the room and to stop praising Cecil's admirable choices in clothing and offering him gifts of pretty coral. One day Francesco, excited by the contents of a letter, informed Cecil that they were to travel. Francesco was invited to Firenze and if he wanted, Cecil could travel with him. But they would have to part as Francesco's new employer would not stand for... I will not repeat the word Francesco used to describe Cecil's heritage. The painter intended no offence, yet offence was delivered. To shorten the story, Cecil fell out of love rapidly, and with shouting.
> 
> So, Cecil found himself in the town of Firenze, or Florence as it is called here, on the steps of Santa Croce without a guide. In Florence, Cecil saw sights he thought unreal. For the tedious but non-monetary payment of sitting through prayers and sermons, he could view art and hear music that to him seemed impossibly beautiful. He asked those around him about the beauty he saw but only one person would teach Cecil about the artists he so admired. A young priest took Cecil under his wing, explained to him the significance of the paintings in Santa Maria Novella, and offered accommodation for the duration of Cecil's stay in his city.

Cecil poured drinks from the bar in the alcove, remembering at the last minute to get a fourth glass. Jake frowned and waved a hand at Cecil.  
"Banished for bedding a Baronet?"  
Cecil nodded. Jake rubbed his forehead.  
"Then y... _Cecil_ bedded his master?"  
Cecil smirked. Jake shook his head, mouth falling open.  
"And next, a novice priest!"  
Cecil sniggered.  
"Oh there were a few loves in between that Cecil didn't like to talk about much. No point in boasting."  
Jake blurted out the words before thinking of consequences.  
"Did _Cecil_ sleep his way around the Continent bartering favours for... for... has _Cecil_ no sense of decency at all? Such acts are for love, not for conquest or trade!"

Earl watched Cecil's face, Carlos watched Jake. Cecil scowled. His voice was firm and punctuated with finger pointing.  
"Cecil never took advantage and never named a price, unlike others one might accuse. He loved every single one of those _conquests_ and regretted only one thing."  
"Really?" Jake snapped. "And what was that?"  
Cecil flashed his companions a lightning smile.  
"That Brother Giacomo did not have a private room. Cecil found he would have to share a dormitory with all the novice Brothers."  
Earl muttered something about _a kid in a sweet shop not knowing which sweet thing to suck first_ and burst out laughing at his own joke. Carlos smiled, shaking his head at Cecil. Jake slammed his billiard cue down and stamped out.

Carlos did not follow Jake out of the room, instead he stood by Cecil and put his arms around Cecil's shoulders. Cecil trembled slightly.  
"Are you very angry? Ceece?"  
Cecil shook his head.  
"I have never used another person like that. Never. I have been honest with my love."  
Earl rubbed Cecil's back.  
"Honey we know, don't we, Carlos?"  
Earl nudged Carlos.  
"Oh! Of course. Ceece, remember what I said? Jake does not love the same way you do. Our kind of love does not come naturally to him at all."  
Cecil rested his forehead against Carlos's. Carlos kissed Cecil. Earl stroked Cecil's cheek and kissed him too. Earl and Carlos smiled at each other. Earl sniggered.  
"Perhaps we should continue your story after I check on Roger?"

Earl returned a while later to report that Roger fell asleep halfway through a story about menu plans for the week ahead and it sounded like Jake was in Maureen and Dana's little parlour beside the nursery. Carlos lounged on the bench seat with Cecil on his lap.  
"Come on then," Carlos grinned. "What happened in Florence?"  
Earl sat beside Carlos and pulled Cecil over so that the valet lay with his legs over Carlos's thighs and his head on Earl's lap. Earl stroked Cecil's hair. Cecil closed his eyes and smiled.  
"Young Novice Giacomo was so agreeable in showing me the sights that I offered to pay in the only way I knew I could."  
"Oh? Not..." Carlos tailed off.  
"Haha, not in the way Jake accused. No, I obtained a bottle of chianti and offered it to him. He said we should share it. So we sat outside the cathedral and passed the bottle back and forth until it was gone, laughing and joking until the moon was high enough to cast silver on the steps we sat on. Giacomo, sweet boy that he was, put his arms around me and held me close. My heart beat so hard I was sure he must feel it through my ribs, but he whispered in my ear, _dare you to climb up and kiss David's arse_ "

 

Earl hooted with laughter. Carlos snorted.  
"Oh my dear Cecil, were you disappointed?" Carlos stroked Cecil's thigh. Cecil's smile never faltered.  
"Disappointed? A young man warmed by cheap wine and pleasant company, dared to a feat of astounding hilarity? No, not at all. Giacomo led me to Michelangelo's beautiful sculpture, but it rested on a plinth higher than my head. I could barely reach the ledge with my fingertips! I asked Giacomo to help me climb up and he obliged. He watched as I hauled myself up, clasped my arms around David's impressive musculature and reached up a hand to touch that cool backside. I clambered up David's legs and planted a solid kiss on each of his marble cheeks."

Carlos laughed. Earl shook his head. Cecil grinned.  
"While I was up that lofty height I had another idea. I squirmed my way around to the front of the sculpture and planted another kiss, letting my lips and tongue linger on that marble member. That is when I heard a bellow from the cathedral doorway. Giacomo yelled at me and I descended as fast as I could without major injury. He ran to the corner and looked round for me. I pelted after the lovely Giacomo as fast as I could and when I caught up he grabbed my hand and pulled me along. We dashed through the Uffizi courtyard to the bank of the Arno then down to the Ponte Vecchio with its jewellery shops all boarded up. There, we sank down by the wall and laughed, half looking and half listening for the heavy footsteps of the night warden."

Cecil paused to look up at Earl and raised his head to smile at Carlos.  
"My heart beat so hard and my breaths came so ragged I thought I might expire there and then. And, know what? I didn't mind. I was happy."  
Carlos smiled and lifted a hand from Cecil's thigh to stroke his stomach. Earl kissed Cecil's forehead and lips, one hand resting on Cecil's chest and one in his hair.  
Cecil sighed and closed his eyes again, a small smile twitching at his mouth.  
"When we felt safe from pursuit, Giacomo and I stood and watched the moonlight reflect white sparkles on the river. I threw an arm around his shoulders and he held my waist. I turned to face him, expecting to see his face full of mischief, but he looked sombre. He stroked my cheek. He said, _'Amore mio, noi non scopare questa sera?'_ and I stood perfectly still, watching his eyes dart away from mine."

Carlos choked on his armagnac. Earl laughed at his spluttering. Cecil giggled and slapped at Carlos's arm.  
"It was a very serious moment! As I said, he asked if I would make love to him then looked away. I touched his warm face and he looked up. I smiled, I stroked his jaw and I kissed him once on the lips. Well, if I had known the intensity of his _amore_ I would have done it sooner! He pushed me against the wall of the bridge, held my head in both hands and kissed me fiercely, grinding his hips against mine. Aah, if I thought I was happy before, I was enraptured now! But there were footsteps and voices. My Giacomo took my hand again and we walked back to the square, pausing to kiss and touch and make sweet promises we each knew the other could not keep. Finally, under an archway in full view of the glorious David but out of sight of the moon, I made the novice cry out in pleasure."

Carlos wondered if Cecil was aware of the effect thinking about his valet making love to a pretty Florentine lad was having on him. Earl, who had heard versions of the story before, wriggled slightly. Cecil sighed.

"And that, my loves, distracted me so much that I did not hear the return of the night warden and I found myself in a Florentine cell. In the morning, the priest came to get Giacomo out with prayers and pleas and money. I, however, was not released. At least, I do not remember rescue. I went to sleep on a floor covered with sawdust and mouse droppings. I dreamed so vividly of home that I found myself back here, emerging from the pantry to face Mister Burton's wrath for ruining my clothing."

Carlos laughed.  
"Were you very glad to be home?"  
Cecil smiled.  
"I was glad to see Earl again. Wasn't I?"  
Cecil reached both hands up to stroke Earl's face. Earl smiled.  
"I remember it. That was before I knew I loved you."  
"And," Cecil added, "long before a handsome scientist arrived to be the new master, long before you knew you loved Carlos too."  
Earl smiled at Cecil, but avoided looking at Carlos. Carlos patted Cecil's knees.  
"Come on, I think it will be safe to slip upstairs to wish each other goodnight and give each other something sweet to dream about."


	21. Money Matters

Jake had stormed out of the room and thundered upstairs to his room with his bottom lip clenched between his teeth to prevent it from trembling. His heart thumped and his breath sounded to him like a harsh whistle in his nostrils. He stood, staring at the wooden door, listening out for sounds of laughter he felt sure must be coming from the billiards room.

A calm voice interrupted him. Face distorted and vision blurred, Jake turned.  
"What."  
"I only asked if you were feeling well."  
Maureen watched Jake regain control. Jake wiped his eyes with his fingers and inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a handful of seconds.  
"Yes, thank you."  
Maureen smiled.  
"Fine. I will leave you alone in that case. Was dinner with Sir Carlos interesting? I take it he was a perfect gentleman. Palmer often describes the perfection of Sir Carlos."  
Jake snorted, but not with amusement.  
"Sir Carlos has always treated me with respect until now. I don't know what he--"  
Jake closed his mouth and stared at the door handle. He touched it. Maureen provided an end to his sentence.  
"Sees in Palmer?"

Jake sighed and shook his head. Maureen touched his shoulder.  
"I was on my way to the scullery to fetch tea for Cardinal and myself. Join us if you want. Our parlour is at the end of the passage."  
Maureen pointed, turned her back and walked off. Jake rubbed his face again, looked down the warm, wood-panelled corridor and shrugged. 

Cardinal opened the door to Jake's knock.  
"Jake!"  
She smiled and Jake felt welcome. Cardinal stood aside and beckoned Jake into her parlour.  
"I hope I am not intruding? Miss Maureen said I could join you for tea."  
Cardinal laughed.  
"Tea. Yes. Tea. You may call me Dana, I am off duty."  
Jake sat on the chair Dana indicated. Maureen returned before long with a bottle and three glasses.  
Jake stared.  
"Won't Sir Carlos mind?"  
Dana shook her head.  
"No. Ortiz gave me a cellar key and Sir Carlos said it was fine to have something nice if we wanted. He said, _'Cardinal, you work hard and you deserve it although I am happy for you to have nice things without feeling you have to earn them'_ so I took him at his word."

Maureen opened and poured, passed glasses to Dana and Jake. Maureen took hers and sank to the floor beside Dana's legs, leaning against Dana's chair. Dana stroked Maureen's hair and Maureen looked up at her, smiling. Jake smiled too.  
"How did you both end up here?"  
Dana laughed.  
"I was always supposed to be here. Maureen has her own reasons. Perhaps she will tell us."

Maureen laid her head on Dana's knee.  
“You don’t want to hear my story.”  
Dana laughed.  
“If I were you, I would tell it. Otherwise Jake may speculate and others will encourage him.”  
Maureen lifted her head, turned and grinned at Dana, making Dana blush.  
“The whole story? Are you sure?”  
Dana nodded.  
“There is nothing in our friendship that I fear or that makes me feel shame. Maureen, we have nothing to hide, have we?”  
Maureen took the hand Dana offered. Maureen shrugged.  
"Suit yourself. My father had three daughters and I am the youngest. I was destined for marriage. To that end, my parents saved enough that I could be knowledgeable and well travelled."

Maureen sipped her wine and smiled at Dana.  
“I met Dana when she was employed by my father to chaperone me on a tour of Europe. He was most concerned lest some handsome French or Italian lover should render me unmarriageable. But he wanted me to go, to experience the art and music and language of other countries. You know, extend my accomplishments and make me more attractive to a certain class of gentleman.”  
Jake looked at Maureen in horror.  
“You were happy about this?”  
Maureen glared at him  
“What do you think? You see me happily producing heirs to some godsforsaken, draughty estate?”  
Jake closed his mouth and sucked his lips in, shaking his head.  
Maureen resumed her tale.

“Can you imagine my _delight_ when I learned that I was to be accompanied by an older woman?” Maureen pulled a sour face. “I thought of some ancient maiden aunt, prim and proper, to keep me in my place as I trudged through cathedrals and museums full of precious dead things whilst things yet living struggled to hold on to life in the alleys outside. But father called me to the drawing room one afternoon and I saw the most beautiful person I have ever seen. He said, ‘This is Cardinal, your companion for your tour. She has strict instructions regarding your welfare and budget…’ And I was not listening. I was taking in the sight that is Dana. She smiled at me.”

Dana laughed.  
“You were staring at me! I thought I had spilled something on my blouse.”  
Maureen giggled.  
“Dana stayed with us for a few days before our trip and we became friends. She demonstrated all the qualities my father looked for in a chaperone, chiding me within his earshot and taking my arm to guide me away from conflict. She learned to read my face as if I had spoken my feelings.

“We packed as little as we thought we would require and set off by steam locomotive to the port and then by boat to Le Havre on the coast of France, where we were to be taken to Paris on the new British style railway. What a dreadful journey! But once there... Aah! We saw the palace of Versailles and the many sights of the city, I practised speaking French as best I could and to save money, we decided to remain in Paris for some months together. Dana found us an affordable room to share while I wrote letters and gave them to a travelling theatre company to post from locations on my strictly planned journey."

Dana laughed. Jake let his mouth gape.  
"You tricked your parents? You pretended to be where you were not?"  
Maureen scowled at Jake.  
"I had been made to pretend I was some _one_ I am not for most of my life. This seemed trivial in comparison."

Dana nodded.  
"Maureen grew from a petulant child into a young woman who yearned for independence in the week before we decided to remain in Paris. Her eyes opened, Jake, she saw a life she could live as herself, not in some approved existence allowed by her parents."

Maureen was quiet for a few seconds. She reached for Dana's hand again.  
"We grew closer. I found out the gap in our ages was less than I thought, three years barely. I confessed to Dana my fear of returning home to be married off to some man I would never love. We would walk through the streets, take refuge in Notre-Dame and admire the restoration work going on around us. On one afternoon, strolling from the Place de la Concorde along the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, I confessed to Dana that I would sooner not take a husband, and I did not want to return to my family."

Maureen kissed Dana's hand.  
"Almost done. Dana was to be housekeeper here on her return and could not delay. We agreed that I would go to my family but, if threat of marriage loomed, Dana would find me a place of safety. A sanctuary."  
Maureen looked at Jake.  
"So here I am."  
Maureen's demeanour added a silent _and what are you going to do about it?_ but Jake smiled.  
"I am happy that you are here with Dana and not married to someone who would not value your skills." 

Maureen held a finger to her lips and pointed at the wall. Dana smiled and Jake frowned until he realised what the sound was. Earl was telling Roger a story. At least, that's what Jake assumed until he began to distinguish individual words and link them into sentences.  
"Is Earl... Is he telling Roger about _recipes?"_  
Maureen laughed, Dana smiled and nodded.  
"We choose to find it endearing. Certainly sends Roger right off to sleep."

Maureen smiled just a little at Jake.  
"So how was the after dinner entertainment?"  
Jake reddened. Dana tutted and shook her head.  
"Miss Mau- _reen_ you know better than that, my lady."  
Maureen laughed and rolled her eyes.  
"Oh come _on_ Dana! How many times to I get to talk to someone else who doesn't worship Palmer?"  
Dana frowned.  
"Cecil helped me settle in, showed me how things worked here. Maureen, please don't let a little thing like this spoil our evening."  
Jake watched Maureen's expression. Maureen huffed and scowled but only for a moment. Dana's steadfast gaze calmed Maureen.  
"Oh I suppose I could bear to talk about something else." She smirked at Jake. "So, how do you like Sir Carlos?"

Jake's smile was guarded but genuine.  
"Sir Carlos is very kind to allow me to stay here."  
Maureen nodded.  
"Yes, Sir Carlos is very kind. And generous. Dana, you had sight of the Manor accounts?"  
Dana frowned, turned her head slightly so that she faced Jake but looked at Maureen from the side of her eyes.  
"Indeed, why?"  
Maureen smiled and shrugged.  
"Only that Jake has experience in the world of finance. Perhaps he can set your mind at ease over the problem that has troubled you these past two months."

The door creaked open and Roger stumbled in. Maureen called him and he staggered over, collapsing into her arms. Jake watched Maureen murmur to Roger that he was safe and loved.  
"I wish... No. No point." Jake rubbed his eyes. "Dana, what is it that troubles you?"  
Dana sighed.  
"You understand financial affairs?"  
Jake shrugged.  
"Yes, I managed Marcus's account at the bank and I looked after his personal cash flow after I started working for him, personally."  
Maureen snorted.  
"Were you not tempted to adjust his cash flow more in your own direction?"  
Jake shook his head.  
"Ugh, the consequences would have been... if I had been discovered to be an embezzler... No."

Jake sipped from his wine glass. Dana stared into hers and Maureen crooned at Roger.  
"Can I trust you to say nothing?" Dana gazed directly at Jake, making him feel somehow that he should do whatever Dana asked of him. Jake leaned forward and nodded slowly.  
"Yes. I know how to be discreet."  
"I think Sir Carlos is spending beyond his means."

Jake sat back, frowning.  
"Huh. Do you know this for sure or merely suspect? Sir Carlos refused to be contracted by Marcus and Marcus may have told anyone he can influence not to use Sir Carlos's services. Does Sir Carlos ever discuss his financial matters?"  
Dana shook her head.  
"Not as far as I know. But last time I visited the bank on his behalf I saw his account. I think the clerk deliberately let me see it."  
The furrows on Jake's brow deepened.  
"I could offer to assist Sir Carlos in setting his affairs in order, but I would not insult my host by suggesting it to him so directly. A man's finances are a secret kept so tight that most gentlemen I have met would sooner discuss their parents' personal lives than their own incomes and outgoings. I suspect Sir Carlos does not consider money to be important."  
Maureen carefully placed Roger curled on his side in a spare seat. She glowered at Jake.  
"That opinion is a luxury for those who no longer have to worry about not having any."

Maureen dropped to the floor by Dana again. Dana kept looking at Jake. He prickled a little under her constant regard. Jake rubbed his neck and put his wine glass carefully on the table.  
"If I could see his personal accounts, perhaps I could find out if Sir Carlos is in danger of bringing the house into debt. I assume he keeps a copy here?"  
Dana smiled, and pointed at the oil lamp glowing on the table.  
"Thank you, Jake, that would be so helpful. He keeps everything of that nature in the big drawer under his laboratory work bench. Would you like to take this lamp to help you find your way?"

Dana stroked Maureen's cheek. Jake watched them, gnawing on his lip as he thought about what he was about to do. Roger grumbled quietly, his eyelids fluttered but remained closed. Dana laughed.  
"I think we should take Roger back to his bed. I hope he does not go sleep-walking tonight."  
Maureen stood and lifted Roger from his chair. Dana accompanied Maureen out of the room, a hand on Maureen's waist and a kiss on her cheek as they crossed the threshold. Jake sensed his part in their evening was over. He downed the remains of his wine, picked up the lamp and crept downstairs. 

Jake was used to moving silently. The layout of Upton Manor was unlike the Vansten residence but the principles of getting around without raising suspicion remained the same. Jake walked slowly, careful to place each foot before transferring weight to it so as not to make footfall sounds in the passageways and stairs. He breathed slowly and evenly to control his heart rate and calm the panic he felt at the risk of encountering Erika or Harlan or Palmer. Jake carried the lamp in his left hand, turned down low to light his way with little risk that his passing would be noticed by anyone bothered by a glow from the gap under their door. He reached the laboratory door without challenge. He reached out his right hand, firmly grasped the cold brass knob, turned it and pushed.

The door was locked. 

Jake set the lamp down on the console table beside the oak door. He stepped back and stared at the panelled wood as if willpower were all that it required. He thought about all the reasons Carlos might have locked the door.

 _Fear of people snooping on his work?_  
Jake dismissed this idea because Carlos seemed eager to explain his peculiar brand of science to everyone who would listen, and everyone who would not.

 _Sense of personal space?_  
Jake pushed that idea away. Carlos often worked with others around him and had frequently allowed others to use it if they wished. Jake, looking for Carlos, had encountered Maureen in there with Dana or...

 _...Roger._  
Jake smiled at the dim corridor. A sleepwalking child in a laboratory was Death waiting for an opportunity. Everyone else had access to the laboratory whether or not Carlos was there to unlock the door, but Roger did not. 

Jake looked up. He stepped close to the door and felt with his left hand along the ledge of the doorframe until he dislodged something small and cold. It fell, but he caught it in his right before it tinkled onto the polished parquet floor.

Jake unlocked the laboratory and went in. He reached back through for the lamp then closed the door behind him. He turned up the lamp and held it high, smiling at the shifting, shortening shadows, and looked around. There, a _drawer under the work bench._

Jake tried the drawer gently and it gave a little. He pulled harder and it opened with a scrape. Papers spilled out, Jake recognised statements and receipts and his spirits sank for a second. He would have hours of work to do to be able even to begin to comprehend the condition of Carlos's financial situation. He faced hours of sorting receipts and statements and invoices by date, transcribing figures into a ledger, totalling one column and subtracting the other.

Jake smiled. He pulled out the entire drawer and got to work.

Jake worked until past dawn. Grey light on the window panes alerted him that he should put the drawer back and make his escape before Erika came to make the room ready for the day. He slipped back upstairs silently after locking up and replacing the key on the lintel. He undressed and slept, confident that not one person in the Manor would bother him or question his absence at breakfast or lunch. 

When Jake finally woke next day it was because Erika had touched his shoulder.  
"Sir Carlos would like to see you in the laboratory."  
"Oh!" Jake rubbed his face to hide his eyes, stomach churning and mind racing through possible scenarios. Jake composed himself and kept his voice neutral. "Did he say why?"  
Erika shrugged.  
"He may have done. What the Lord of the Manor does or says is not of much interest to us. We just keep the Manor running smoothly."

Jake dressed quickly and combed fingers through his hair, wishing for the umpteenth time that the room had a mirror. He found the laboratory door open and walked in after a soft knock on the door. Carlos looked up at him from his workbench.  
"Jake, come in. Sit down."  
Carlos wore a frown.  
_This is it, he knows and I'm to be asked to leave,_ Jake thought as he sank onto a chair. Carlos sat opposite him, his face still serious.

"Jake, who knows you are here?"  
Jake frowned. This was not the question he anticipated.  
"Apart from you, Palmer, Harlan, Roger, Ortiz, Maureen, Cardinal, Erika--"  
"Yes, yes point taken. Many people know you are here. Perhaps a better question is _how does Vansten know you are here?_ because he came to fetch you this morning and it was very difficult to persuade him you were elsewhere without lying." 

Jake froze. He felt as if his heart, which had been beating fast, had suddenly halted. He fought for air, a crushing feeling in his chest tightened his ribcage and his hands ached with the effort of gripping the armrests. His head swam.  
"Jake? JAKE!"  
To Jake, Carlos's voice sounded like he was underwater. He felt Carlos's arms around him, heard Carlos call _Where on Earth could Palmer be?_ and soon there were two sets of arms lifting him onto the sofa. Someone's nimble fingers unfastened his collar and tie. Jake inhaled a sudden harsh breath and cried out, _NO!_

Carlos kept his hand on Jake's arm and kept talking to him, reassuring and calm. Cecil brought a cloth and water to bathe Jake's face. Earl's unmistakeable voice called from the doorway, _is everything all right? Erika said... Oh!_

Jake recovered after a while. He opened his eyes to find Carlos still holding his arm, and Earl nearby. Jake blinked and Earl smiled at him.  
"Welcome back! You missed breakfast and lunch. Want some soup?"  
Jake frowned. Earl kept talking.  
"Aah go on, Roger said it was the best ending we could expect from _Charles Chickens._ There's barley and vegetables and parsley in it."  
Carlos helped Jake to sit up. Jake accepted the mug and spoon with a nod of thanks.  
"Was Palmer here? I thought I saw him or heard him or something."  
Carlos laughed.  
"Yes, but he is looking after Roger. You know, telling stories."

Jake reddened.  
"Sir Carlos, last night--"  
"You were uncomfortable," Earl supplied, hoping Jake would eat rather than talk, "and you left. No harm done. Right, Carlos?"  
Carlos raised his eyebrows at Earl.  
"Cecil was-- Oof! Earl!"  
Earl glared at Carlos. Carlos looked at Jake's face.  
"No lasting harm. Unless there was harm done to you, Jake?"  
Jake shook his head.  
"Did I offend Palmer a lot?"  
Carlos opened his mouth but closed it and looked at Earl. Earl sighed.  
"Yes, yes you did. But he will forgive you at the slightest hint of an apology." Earl smiled at Carlos. "Our Ceece loves to love, and whoever he loves is not for you to judge."  
Jake _hmm_ -ed and ate.

Jake finished his soup, thanked Earl and sighed.  
"Am I to be sent back to Vansten?"  
Carlos frowned.  
"No! Why would you think that? If you chose to return to Vansten that would be a different matter. There's no question of sending anyone anywhere."  
Jake closed his eyes again and shook his head.  
"I do nothing. I accept your kindness and repay you by insulting your... valet."  
Carlos shrugged.  
"You do not have to earn a place here. Vansten left something for you. He left, but came back and would not leave without making me promise to give you these."

Carlos stood up and lifted a wreath woven from flowering bramble and an envelope with Vansten's seal on it.  
Jake snorted.  
"Vansten's apologies are as common as the flower that signifies remorse."  
Jake opened the letter and read it aloud.

 _My dear Jake,_  
_I know from Sir Carlos's face that you are with him at the Manor. I hope you are being treated well. Return to me and I will treat you better._  
_I do not understand why you left me in such haste. I gave you a life above what you could reasonably expect. I do not understand why you have not returned to me. My days are marked by confusion and every time I see Erika I weep in grief at having lost you._  
_Would you at least consent to meet me or whatever to agree the terms of your return? I will call in a week's time. Think about it._  
_You will always be, to me, my Jake._  
_MV_

Jake scowled at the letter. Carlos reached for it, plucked it from Jake's fingers and read it for himself.  
"That's not even an apology!"  
Jake sighed.  
"I won't meet him. I can't."  
He looked up at Carlos.  
"Please do not make me see Vansten."  
Carlos shook his head.  
"Who you meet or do not meet is up to your own desires and chance. I have no influence over either of those factors. Oh!"  
Carlos's exclamation accompanied a delighted grin as Cecil entered the laboratory with Roger. The boy had two eggs in his hands, one tiny, barely the size of the ball of Carlos's thumb, and one huge and wrinkled. Roger presented both to Papa Carlos with an expectant look.  
"Explicar esto por favor. ¿Es el grande a un dragón?"  
Carlos smiled at Jake.  
"Do whatever you think is right. Please excuse me, Roger and I are going to be busy with science for a while."

Jake got up and left the room. He walked slowly back to the stairs, intending to return to his room, but Cecil caught up and took his arm.  
"Will you join me in the pantry?"  
Jake stiffened.  
"I don't think--"  
"I know."  
Cecil sniggered at his opportunistic insult. Jake fought a flash of anger at the snub and bit his lip. Cecil steered him to the hidden door under the main staircase, through and into the world of below-stairs.

In the pantry, Cecil stared at Jake. Jake closed his eyes and swallowed.  
"Cecil, I apologise for my behaviour towards you last night. I was rude."  
Cecil nodded.  
"Mmhmm, you were. Now apologise with your eyes open like you know I'm here."  
Jake looked at Cecil. Cecil was frowning.  
"Cecil, I am sorry. I have no right to judge."  
"Damn right! Are you going back to Vansten?"  
"No!" Jake's reply was instant and vehement.  
Cecil nodded, never breaking eye contact.  
"I believe you. Fine."  
Cecil offered Jake a handshake, Jake accepted it and Cecil was gone. 

Jake blinked in the gloom, wondering how Cecil moved so fast, then emerged into the scullery where Earl was whisking egg whites for soufflé.  
"Did you see Cecil come past?"  
Earl laughed.  
"Did Cecil vanish on you? Probably didn't want to get roped into beating eggs. I wish Sir Carlos would direct some of his scientific effort to the mystery of how Cecil travels around the Manor. I'm sure he'll have popped up somewhere else he's needed. If you're at a loose end, take over for a while. My arm aches."

~~~~~~~~

The next two days passed without incident. For the next two nights, Jake waited until he was sure Sir Carlos was safely in his room and the murmurs of conversation had died away. He listened out for a door creak and footsteps as Harlan went to check on his boy, or lingering _goodnights _and heavier footsteps if Harlan and Palmer decided to let Sir Carlos sleep in peace. When he felt it was silent and safe, Jake slipped out of his room, padded down to the library and continued work on Carlos's accounts by barely adequate lamplight until the early morning sunlight took over and he snuck back to bed.__

On his fourth night of sneaking down to the laboratory as the Manor slept, Jake put down his lamp, retrieved the now organised drawer of statements, bills and receipts and sat with his makeshift ledger. He murmured to himself as he added figures to the correct columns in date order _...one pound four shillings and eight pence to Carlsberg's Stores, five shillings to the farrier, aha! One pound, twelve and thruppence income from sale of Manor produce, minus commission..._  
"What are you doing?" 

Jake jumped and turned in his seat. Cecil stood in the doorway that led to the back corridor.  
"Why are you snooping in Sir Carlos's affairs? Did Vansten put you up to it? I thought we could trust you!"  
Cecil advanced. Jake stood up and pointed to the papers and makeshift quill pen on the table.  
"I'm not snooping. I am organising Sir Carlos's records of income and expenditure because..." Jake paused. Did anyone but himself and Maureen know of Dana's fears? "...because he needs help with it and would not think to ask. Because money matters whether he is interested in its acquisition or not. Because I contribute nothing and I understand accounts. Because this is something useful I can do." 

Cecil nodded.  
"Mmhmm. So you're fine with telling this tale to Sir Carlos? When he knows Vansten intends to pay you a visit in a few days' time?"  
Jake sat down again.  
"I was going to tell him once this was all up to date and show him how to keep on top of his expenditure." He flicked through the much diminished pile of papers. "In the morning? I have three, maybe four more hours' worth here unless Sir Carlos has another stash of papers somewhere."  
Cecil pulled a tight smile and a nod.  
"In the morning. I will sit with you until it is time to make coffee." 

Jake worked through the night, ignoring the dawn. Cecil watched him, listening to his quiet litany of pounds, shillings and pence, and was asleep within the half-hour. Jake paused only once to place a cushion under Cecil's head and lift his feet. 

Cecil woke with Jake's hand on his shoulder and the patter of rain whipped against the panes by blustery winds. He yawned and sat up, rubbed his face and hair with both hands and frowned. Jake thought Cecil looked suddenly old. Jake stretched.  
"I have finished. Look."  
Cecil looked. On the table Jake had arranged neatly clipped groups of papers and a makeshift booklet bound with string. Jake offered Cecil a hand to help him to his feet.  
"I really must speak with Sir Carlos this morning. When does he rise? Do I have time to wash and change?"  
Cecil shrugged.  
"Carlos rises when I take him coffee."  
Jake looked concerned.  
"Now would be a good time to make coffee."  
On their way out of the laboratory, Cecil locked the door and pocketed the key. 

Ninety minutes later, Carlos frowned at Jake. They sat together poring over Jake's neat columns of numbers again. Carlos shook his head.  
"Jake, what exactly do you mean by _you're going to run out of money at this rate unless you get a job?"_


	22. Bought and Sold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is an auction. Cecil is disturbed by the description of Lot 37, despite the best reassurances of those close to him.

"There is to be an auction! At the Vansten residence!"  
Cecil almost squealed the news he had just read aloud. Carlos raised his eyebrows.  
"Oh? When? He does have a lot of things. Maybe he wants to make space for new things by getting rid of some old things."  
Cecil studied the notice in The Post.  
"Hmm, Wednesday. Viewing starts at ten, the auction is at noon. Oh, the tiny print here has a list of items to be auctioned off. Let me see-ee-ee..."

Cecil froze. He rolled off Carlos's bed, wrenched the door open and marched two doors down the hallway to Jake's room, clutching the newspaper. Cecil hammered on Jake's door.

"JAKE! WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS!"  
Cecil yelled and pounded the door until Jake opened it.  
"Cecil? What's going on? Let me get dressed and--"  
"No." Cecil barged into Jake's room, waving the newspaper at him. "I need you to tell me what this is about. If it's a joke I am not laughing."

Jake took several steps backward and landed sitting on the bed.  
"Cecil, I have no idea what you are talking about!"  
"THIS!"  
Cecil yelled, shook and pointed. Jake took the newspaper from him and peered at the small print. Jake read, frowning first from the effort of reading tiny words and then from the message they contained.

"Lot thirty seven. Cecil Palmer."

Four people met around the dining table. Cecil and Earl were not present, Earl had taken one look at Cecil's face and wrestled him upstairs to Carlos's room. 

Ortiz shook her head.  
"Palmer belongs to himself. Vansten is up to something."  
Cardinal nodded.  
"Perhaps he is trying to upset Palmer, and those who love him, because Jake keeps refusing to meet with him and returns all his letters."

Carlos frowned.  
"Would Vansten be so petty?"  
Three voices chorused _yes!_

Jake cleared his throat.  
"We could go to the auction. I would dearly lo... I have some interest in finding out why Marcus is selling up."  
Everyone at the table agreed that Palmer should not accompany them.

In Carlos's bedroom, Cecil trembled in Earl's arms and Earl held him tight.  
"You cannot be bought and sold, Cecil, you are a free man."  
Cecil fought his way out of Earl's embrace and paced the floor.  
"So easy to say! Look at me, look at you, look at me again. How easy would it be for someone to claim they owned me? Bought me in some foreign land and brought me here with the rest of their chattels? Would they do the same to _you?_ I doubt it. People like _me_ get bought and sold every day, somewhere!"

Earl knew better than to interrupt or to try to staunch Cecil's flow of anger and fear. 

"There are countries to this day where I cannot go because I am automatically a slave. You think my travel tales are harmless entertainment bcause I choose not to tell the full story of some of the travellers I encountered. Perhaps I should. Perhaps you would all like to hear of people who look like me fleeing across borders in darkness only to be discovered and..."

Cecil sat on the floor, head in his hands.  
"They warned me where I could not go. Whole countries, I could have wandered across a border and not known and found myself enslaved because of my mother's race. They told stories..."

He took a deep breath, and another.  
"There are people in this land who, in living memory, claimed ownership of other humans. How difficult would it be for someone like that, like Vansten, to claim that one such as me was property? To sell me alongside his spare furniture? Who would believe the protests of someone like _me_ when someone like _him_ speaks against me?"

Earl waited. Cecil ranted. After a while Cecil's head drooped, tears stopped, and Earl sat beside him on the rug, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.  
"Nobody is going to buy or sell you, my love. Not on Wednesday, not ever. You can stay here safe in the Manor until this stupid auction business is over."

Cecil leaned his red face on Earl's shoulder.  
"No. I am going to Vansten's house to make sure I am not sold without my voice being heard against it. I will need you with me in case..."  
Earl nodded.  
"I will do whatever you need me to do, Cecil. Right now I think you need me to tell you to get up, blow your nose and come lie with me and let me hold you."

Cecil allowed Earl to help him to his feet and out of his uniform. They got between the covers of Carlos's bed and lay close and quiet in vests and leggings. After a while, Earl murmured to Cecil.  
"They can't, you know. Slavery is outlawed here, Pa remembers when he was little there was a fuss. Must be fifty years since. Perhaps Vansten's parents or grandparents... but not Vansten. I heard the things he said about owning a relative to rile up McDaniels but they _can't_ be true."

Cecil snuggled closer and sighed.  
"You think it all ended because it is illegal? You think a law was passed and suddenly everyone was free as air?"  
Earl kissed Cecil's forehead.  
"No. I know there are peple so poor they have no choice but to work in terrible conditions or starve, even then sometimes they starve anyway. I have seen Vansten's poorhouses. But this auction, advertised and open, Vansten would not dare. Winchell would stop him." 

Cecil stretched out, pressing aganst Earl. Earl rubbed Cecil's back. Cecil kissed Earl and stroked his face.  
"You make me feel safe."  
"Mmhmm? Good."  
"You know how to make me feel better."  
"Oh?" Earl smiled with warmth at Cecil's half-closed eyes and serious face. "You want me to make you feel better _now?"_  
Cecil nodded.  
"Mmm. But don't let me go, I want to feel you, I want to feel secure. I want you."

Earl kissed Cecil's forehead again.  
"I want to lie here with you for a while and just be quiet, let's just be calm. But lunch won't make itself. I could bring you a handsome scientist?"

As it happened, Earl did not have to bring Carlos because about fiften minutes later, Carlos brought himself. 

"I knew you would be here." Carlos smiled. "I knew because I looked everywhere else and you were not in any of those other places and you have to be somewhere rather than nowhere so I deduced that you must be in the place I had not thought to look."  
Earl smiled. Cecil hid his head. Carlos gave the lump under the covers a concerned glance.  
"Carlos, I should make lunch. Ceece, will you come with me or will you stay with Carlos?"  
Earl felt Cecil loosen his grip. He got out of bed, dressed quickly and left. 

Carlos sat on the bed and laid a hand on the lump, roughly where he calculated Cecil's shoulder should be.  
"Ceece? I am going to find out what Vansten is doing. Jake said he had some shady business deals that might have left him short of cash and--"  
"How much?"  
Cecil's head appeared from under the covers. "How much do you think he'd make?"  
"Cecil?"  
Carlos looked confused.  
"From the auction!" Cecil sat up and took Carlos's arm. "How much do you think he'd get for _Lot thirty-seven, Cecil Palmer_?"  
Carlos stared at Cecil, taken aback by Cecil's intensity.  
"What do you think, Sir Carlos? A trained valet, articulate and neat, average height and build, healthy... What would Vansten get for me? Five hundred? Enough to pay his creditors?"

Carlos waved his arms and almost yelled.  
"A jail sentence! Cecil, he _can't!_ It is not right... not allowed to buy or sell another person! I promise, Cecil, this thing you fear will not happen here."  
Cecil wiped his eyes and Carlos softened.  
"Stay here, Cecil, wait in the Manor until we get to the bottom of this trickery of Vansten's. You are safe here, well, as safe as anyone can be anywhere."

Cecil sighed and shook his head.  
"Earl does not understand why I feel so strongly about this. He cannot feel what I feel. And neither can you."

Carlos shook his head and gestured at Cecil and at himself.  
"How can any one of us truly understand the feelings of another? I know you are distraught, I see it, it makes me sad and yet I do not feel it, I do not fully comprehend it because I am not part of you and you are not an extension of me. We are separate creatures, all of us, with our own experiences and hopes and fears and secrets. We cannot feel another's emotions. But," Carlos raised a hand at Cecil's anguished expression, "I can tell you that I love you and I feel hurt and helpless to see you and be unable to make you happy. I feel anger at Vansten for his malice and it brings up strange desires for violence that I know to be wrong and beneath dignity. I feel a desire to hold on to you and refuse to let go. I feel, sense, a forming idea about our futures together. I--"

The door creaked and Earl pushed it closed with a muttered _thanks, Erika._  
"Carlos, you need to shut up and eat your lunch. Cecil?"  
Cecil snorted once.  
"Carlos loves me and he wants to hit Vansten."  
Earl shrugged and grinned.  
"I'll hold him still for you.

Cecil remained uneasy and irritable. He did not sleep despite Carlos and Earl doing all they could to reassure him, which was little beyond sharing their presence and warmth.

Ortiz muttered something about _Palmer could pull himself together_ but diverted Erika to most of Cecil's below-stairs duties. 

Cardinal offered Cecil a hand on his arm in passing, a smile and an ear if he wanted to talk without risking a deluge of unaskedfor advice.

Jake kept out of Cecil's path after Maureen warned that anything reminding Cecil of Vansten and the impending auction upset him in a way that ended with tears and regret.

Wednesday morning came. Earl, first up, made breakfast while Cecil and Carlos lay awake, each wondering silently what the day would bring. 

Jake paced his room, unable to sleep or even settle at the thought of walking through the front door of his old home. 

Roger pestered Maureen with questions about his birthday the following week Would Janice be allowed to come? Would there be cake? What kind?

At ten in the morning, Carlos and Jake stood with the small crowd waiting to be admitted to the Vansten residence. Jake looked around nervously. Carlos took his arm.  
"Jake, you can go home if you choose."  
Jake stared at Carlos.  
"Go home? You want me to move back _here?_ " Jake shook his head. "Carlos, I--"  
"No!" Carlos smiled. "Home is a safe place where you would rather be. Where do you want to be, Jake?"  
Jake took a deep breath.  
"Not here. But I am not at home in the Manor either. I do not have a home."  
Carlos sighed and nodded. "I... I have a suggestion. But it can wait, the doors are opening."

At ten-fifteen Earl gripped Cecil's arm tight.  
"Ceece, this is a really bad idea. Stay here with Dana and Maureen and help plan Roger's party."  
But Cecil would not hear of it so one hour later they stood a few feet beyond the back of the line waiting to gawk at the reputed riches of the Vansten residence.

At eleven, Carlos stared at Lot 37 and Jake stared at Marcus.

"Are you ill?" Jake asked without intoduction. "You look dreadful."  
Marcus smiled and Jake almost smiled in return.  
"Jake, my Jake. Why did you never come home to me? Why would you never meet me, or even read my letters? Jake, my Jake, I needed you."  
Jake shook his head.  
"Marcus, you--"  
"No, heh," Marcus smiled. "Don't say it. Jake, I know what I am, whatever I have become. You tried to warn me and I refused to hear you."

Jake frowned deep.  
"Marcus, what's this all about?"  
'You were, you know, right, Jake, about everything. About Strex. I... I bought everything back from them. You know, all the businesses I sold, whatever, I bought them back and more. I saw... Jake, heh, Jakeyboy..."  
Marcus gripped Jake's sleeve and held on.  
"The things they did... the worse things they planned..."  
Marcus shook his head.  
"Not here in our Vale. I bought everything of ours back from them and I have nothing. I want to give everything into trust and keep nothing. Jake, my Jakeyboy, tell me how to be poor. Tell me who to trust. Will you do it? Will you take care of everything?"

Jake detached Marcus's fists from his sleeves.  
"Marcus, what are you talking about!"  
Marcus took a deep breath and released it with a hiss.  
"I looked into Strex & Son and I saw evil. You think I never cared about workers, but I did, I couldn't do anything more than offer unlimited overtime and floor-space to sleep. But Strex! Ugh, work yourself to death with a smile on your face. Did I ever demand that you smile for me, Jake? Did I ever pay you scrip? No! I paid real money, not much but it could be spent freely. Wasn't I better than that?"

Jake declined to answer and left the house, preferring to sit in the small park opposite, watching people enter and leave the house. Carlos joined him.  
"I have to buy lot thirty seven, I want that painting so I can give it to Cecil."  
Jake frowned.  
"A painting? Why? Can you afford it?"

Carlos felt his stomach tighten and his head swim at the thought of someone else prchasing that particular oil on canvas.

"I am having difficulty expressing how I feel about it. When I saw it first I was taken by beauty, that pose so innocent yet alluring. A moment later I wanted to cover it up and take it home because that look was not for me. I find I do not want people looking at it."  
Jake laughed.  
"Carlos, is lot thirty-seven a portrait of _Cecil?_ Are you jealous? You don't show it when Cecil talks of past conquests or hints at his activities with Earl."

Carlos shook his head and sighed.  
"That is different, Jake, he decides who to love and how. I bet he did not consent for this moment to be on public display. If he saw people leering... Ugh. I am glad I asked Earl and Cecil to wait at the Manor."  
"Oh?" Jake pointed at two figures walking up the steps of Vansten's house. "I see your word is their bond."

Carlos jogged over to the hose and folllowed Cecil and Earl inside. Jake waited until Marcus's words made sense to him and headed back in.

Carlos caught up with Cecil and Earl in the dim, overfurnished hallway.  
"Cecil! Earl! Have you seen it?"  
Earl frowned, Cecil looked like he was on the verge of panic. Carlos smiled and took Cecil's hand.  
"Lot thirty-seven. It's in here. Come."  
Carlos led Cecil and Earl through a door. Earl recognised the model in the painting immediately. Cecil scowled at it.  
"Have I been in despair over a... a stupid painting? I don't see why some random portrait is named after me."

Carlos raised his eyebrows, and his eyes widened for a second. Earl frowned at Cecil. Cecil pointed with the hand that was not firmly clasped by Carlos.  
"Oh! That place looks familiar. Reminds me of a villa near Florence, I think I stayed there for a while. There was a painter but... No. No."  
Cecil shook his head.  
Earl pointed at the figure's back, a mark on the right shoulder-blade.  
"What's that?"  
Cecil stood close and squinted.  
"It's a tattoo of a wheel. Those are really common. The travellers I stayed with used that sign, even Tawni had one. So I suppose the model must be a traveller. Probably found it hilarious to be paid to sit still."

Carlos stroked his chin and said _hmm_ then smiled at Cecil, glancing at Earl.  
"Ceece, I think the person in this painting is very beautiful. What do you think, Earl?"  
Earl caught Carlos's glance and smirked.  
"Yes, yes he is. Ceece?"  
Cecil stared at the painting.  
"He? She? Can you tell?"  
"Oh?" Carlos pointed. "Look at the shape of their face and the way the light hits their features. I think this person is lovely, perhaps the most lovely person I have ever seen."  
"Yes," Earl agreed. "And the expression the painter has captured, Ceece, I have seen you look at Carlos that exact same way. I think the model loved the painter."

Earl peered at the small, handwritten card fixed to the bottom of the frame.  
"Unattributed. Undated. Acquired ten years ago but likely older. Possibly Florentine. Are you sure you do not recognise the person in the painting? His face is very like yours and you have that same tattoo on your shoulder."

Cecil frowned and shook his head, but he squeezed Carlos's hand and sighed _"Ah, I told Francesco to destroy his sketches and not finish it, after we fell out."_

Carlos released Cecil's hand and clasped his arm around Cecil's shoulder instead. He spoke a low murmur into Cecil's ear.  
"Do you want to go sit and tell us about this?"  
Earl nudged Carlos and spoke in an equally low murmur.  
"Sir Carlos, we are not within the safe privacy of the Manor here."

Carlos dropped his arm and Cecil sidestepped away. Two people in black formal suits pushed past. One ticked something on a clipboard and the other removed the portrait from the wall.  
"Hey! Where are you taking that?" Carlos demanded, "I want to buy it."  
"Too late sir, bidding just ended. Only one bid on this, people like to know the provenance of their treasures, something Vansten unfortunately lacks."

Carlos and Earl flanked Cecil on their walk back to the Manor. Jake followed, lost in his own thoughts, trailing by far enough not to eavesdrop on their tense conversation. Once inside, Carlos asked Cecil to help him change. Earl went to find out how Roger's birthday plans were progressing and Jake went below-stairs to find Ortiz.

Ortiz held up her hand and Jake paused at the office door, chewing at his bottom lip. Ortiz was counting. She stopped, wrote a neat figure and nodded her head.  
"Jake, Erika told me you would want to see me. Sit?"  
"Erika?" Jake sat. "How did they know?"  
Ortiz barked out a laugh.  
"Ha! how does Erika know. That's a good one!"  
Jake sat ramrod straight.  
"Did Erika tell you why, too?"  
Ortiz smiled.  
"Erika, Erika, Erika and I have discussed at some length the matter of Vansten and his attempt to right at least some of his wrongs. We decided that Vansten needs a new life and I need a new challenge. You are too close to Vansten to do what he asked of you and you were right to refuse."

Jake nodded and breathed more easily.  
"I am glad I have done one thing right, at least."  
Ortiz nodded.  
"Sir Carlos is going to need a new butler. Erika has already made arrangements with the man you used to call Marcus Vansten. He is much changed, you know. Vansten-Strex will be re-named, managed by Erika and myself, and I will put its assets to better use. Something for the community, I think. Hmm."  
Ortiz smiled and looked dreamily up at the corner of the room.  
"Do you like opera, Jake?"

Upstairs, Roger launched himself into a hug from Papa Earl. He chattered excitedly about how they would all have birthday lunch with cake and Janice could come too and play party games, then they could go have birthday tea with Grandpa and cake and some more games and...  
Earl laughed and agreed to it all.

Cecil helped Carlos out of his formal clothes, taking care to brush off any specks and fold carefully along the correct crease lines. Carlos smiled.  
"I love to watch you work. You take such care over everything."  
Cecil looked tired. He did not lift his head to smile as he spoke.  
"I am..."  
Cecil hung Carlos's jacket over the matching trousers and stood in front of Carlos. Carlos stroked Cecil's face with both hands. Cecil closed his eyes.  
"I am very..."

Cecil stood still and silent. Carlos held him and stroked his hair, running fingers repeatedly through the unruly waves at the back of Cecil's head and kissing his face. Cecil breathed in deep and out slowly twice, hands clenched and arms tight by his sides. His head sagged onto Carlos's shoulder and he trembled. Carlos spoke slow and quiet.  
"Cecil, I am sorry you have been upset over this. What can I do?"

Cecil's head jerked and he spat out a curse. Carlos did not know the language but Cecil's meaning was very clear. Carlos stepped back, Cecil stepped forward to match. 

"Carlos, I am... I feel... I do not know what the word is."  
Cecil was shaking his head. Carlos stroked his arm.  
"If you want to tell me about it, you can, when you want to. If you do not want to tell me, I will not raise the matter again."

Cecil sighed.  
"I gave Francesco permission to draw me as I bathed. The days were long and hot, we would share a bottle of prosecco and bathe in the pool in his courtyard. One day he brought materials and flattery and said he wanted to paint me, asked if I would sit for a sketch. Promised the pose would be private between us. I agreed. I sat for a sketch and we made... um..."  
Carlos stoked Cecil's cheek.  
"You made love? Cecil, I am not jealous of your previous lovers. How could I be? It makes no sense to be jealous of someone who had your attention before we ever met. I love you now."  
"And I love you!"  
Carlos smiled.  
"I know. Go on?"

Cecil tensed again and closed his eyes.  
"The scene everyone saw so clearly happened a day or two before Francesco received a letter appointing him to a better position. He said he could not take me with him as his equal. He could not be seen with me unless I _knew my place_ and _acted with humility_ and we argued. I told him not to finish the painting and he called me... he called me a... "

Cecil cursed again. Carlos held him but Cecil broke free and gesticulated.

"I loved him! I thought he loved me but he can't have. He was just another priviledged ass looking for a pet. I felt... I was humiliated, Carlos! And finding out that he finished the painting against my wishes and then _sold_ it is a humiliation all over again! I wish you had never seen it. I wish you and Earl had no knowledge of its existence. I wish... I wish... I wish the priviledged upper classes all over the world had a taste of what it is like to be like me, to be regarded with suspicion, to be considered a lesser being in their eyes because of the way I look, because of my mother's race, because I was born without the endorsement of parish records!"

Carlos smiled, eyebrows raised. "Ceece, I will find out who bought your portrait and buy it for you. It should be yours, you can do with it whatever you choose."

Carlos watched Cecil's face change, from anger to fear and horror.  
"You say you love me, Carlos?"  
Carlos nodded, eyes wide, brows high, lips apart.  
"Yes! Cecil--"  
"What am I to you? I do not rank the few inept fumbles with young aristocrats as I was growing up. Apart from you and Francesco I kept my most unguarded love below-stairs. To Francesco I was a toy to pick up and put down when he was tired of me. What am I to you? A pet you can bribe with gifts? Like Jake was to Vansten?"

Carlos felt his heart beat faster and his head spin. He waved his arms and raised his voice so that he almost shouted.  
"Cecil? You... How can you say that to me! Cecil you are the only person I have loved like this! You are... I want... I want to take you into town and walk arm in arm through the market with a smile that says _this is the love of my life!_ I want to keep you safe--"

The door creaked.  
"That's a really bad idea, Carlos." Earl put down a tray. "I brought tea." Earl hooked his thumb toward the door. "I could go."

Cecil stood, fuming in silence. Carlos gave Cecil an exaggerated shrug, arms wide and shoulders high.  
"Cecil, I do not know what I have done to make you think so badly of me!"

Cecil glared at Carlos.  
"Of course you don't! How could you know how it feels to be held in complete contempt? Regarded as a criminal and followed around town? To hear people say _we don't need the likes of him around here_ and see them point and have to bear it with a calm face as fits my station? To know that to argue back will always go badly for me! To know that the only existence I may have is either prison or poverty or as a pet at the whim of someone else's purse!"

By the end, Cecil was pointing and yelling at Carlos and Carlos was yelling back. Earl stood helpless as Cecil lobbed one more angry curse toward Carlos and stormed out. Carlos stood in shocked silence at Cecil's last words to him.

_"I will not be your toy! I will not wait for you to tire of me and throw me out! I have nowhere else but here! This ends now. Jake can be your valet and I will remain in the scullery and the laundry cleaning up after you all without this vain, false hope that one day we can walk as equals without fear."_

Carlos sat heavily on his bed. His hands pushed through his hair then he wrapped his arms around himself. He turned to Earl, who watched the heavy door close as Cecil's rapid footsteps receded.

"Earl... what did he mean? What did Cecil mean by _this ends now_?"

Earl sighed at Carlos's anguished expression.  
"Carlos, you know exactly what he meant."

Earl picked up the unwanted tea tray and left.


	23. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW drunk Cecil

Earl stuck his head around the nursery door. Roger smiled at him from the floor where he sat with his toys arranged in a circle.  
"Hey, will you come to Grandpa's with me?"  
Roger's reply was to yell _"Bye, Miss Maureen!"_ and hurl himself at Earl. Maureen appeared at the connecting door to her room.  
"Maureen? We'll be a while and there'll be no hot dinner. Trouble in paradise."  
"Oh? Ah! Right. Take Roger's coat. It will be cold later."  
Earl took Roger's hand. Pa Harlan would know what to do.

They walked the mile or so to Old Pa Harlan's cottage, Roger alternately trotting behind, racing ahead and asking for a piggyback. Earl was not sure when "Pa Harlan" became "Old Pa Harlan" but he suspected Roger may have had something to do with it. An extra word to mark the existence of an extra Harlan generation. Pa welcomed them with a smile.

"Yon Erika said ye were on yer way over. Come away in, there's soup."  
Earl smiled and handed a package over to his father.  
"And bread."  
Roger giggled.  
"Sshhh!"

The three Harlans ate their meal in silence, as was their own custom. After, Old Pa Harlan gave Papa Earl a hard stare. Roger asked to be excused and went outside to roughhouse with the dogs.  
"You here jist t'see Old Pa?"  
Earl sighed.  
"Pa, you ever argue with my mam?"  
"Aah." Pa Harlan stretched and stacked their bowls. "You fall out with young Palmer? Is it over Sir Carlos?"  
Earl raised his eyebrows. Pa snorted.  
"I'm not daft, lad. I knew who he were that day. Just easier to play act sometimes. Aye, I argued with yer mam sometimes but never bad. Only over small stuff."  
"No," Earl frowned at the floor. "Cecil and Carlos have fallen out over big stuff and I don't want to pick a side."

Pa Harlan watched Roger tumbling around with two large but old hounds. After a couple of minutes, he gave Earl a tight-lipped smile.  
"You waiting to see who the winner is or something? There's no winner there. You choose careful, Sir Carlos is Roger's guardian so you got to stick by him, and Cecil's your best friend, he's stuck by you so you got to stick by him too."

Earl rolled his eyes.  
"Jeez, Pa, that clears things right up for me!"  
Pa threw a cloth at Earl.  
"Less of that, young man! Dry up while I wash and you think on what's best for the Harlans, Earl and Roger. Sir Carlos is a good catch if he's not too slippery. Yon Cecil's a sweet thing, he'll be good t'ye. Pick one, t'other, both or neither. Then let's talk about midsummer, just a coupla days t'go."

\-----

Meanwhile, Carlos retreated into his laboratory. He took the spare key down and locked the door. He also checked the hidden door was closed and pulled a chair in front of it. He looked around, reached into his drawer for a pen with a fresh nib and a bottle of ink made from blackcurrant juice, and set out a fresh sheet of paper, smoothing it with his hands.

In the centre of the page, Carlos wrote _Cecil_.  
He drew an oval around the name, stared at it for several seconds, then modified the oval into a heart.  
He thought.

On the left, Carlos added lines to words and phrases that described things that made Cecil happy. On the right, things that made Cecil sad or angry or afraid. 

When he had almost filled the page, one side crowding out the other, Carlos sat back and thought again. Creases deepened on his forehead, lips pressed tight together, a quiet _hmm_ escaped on an exhale. He dipped his nib in ink, underlined a few words on the right, wrote and circled a whole sentence on the left.

Carlos let his head rest on his hands. _Perhaps Cecil is right, perhaps this is better for him. He has Earl after all, he does not need me._

Carlos closed his eyes and dug the heels of his palms into his orbits to stop tears. He took a deep juddering breath.  
_How long have I wanted this? How many times did I dream of riches to help my family? I promised if I ever had money I would buy safety for my loved ones. I would stop them from being hurt. I would..._

Carlos sank his head onto his arms on the desk, overcome with memories of playing barefoot in the dirt outside a low building, a two-room wooden hut that housed his mother and sisters. He had been the lucky one, he went to school to learn in Spanish and English and came home to teach his sisters by the luxury of candle-light. Mama worked, young Carlos did not know what as, only that factory hours were long and mama was often tired. 

Carlos had a mama who made him learn manners. He was clever and polite, and a passing expedition took him on after asking the schoolmaster if they had a quick learner, a bright boy who could help out.

Young Carlos soared in science like a condor seeking air currents. The European expedition scientist did not thrive in the humid rainforest with its swarms of biting, stinging life, and Carlos found himself in charge of investigating and cataloguing. On return, he was paid enough to take his family just out of poverty, but they had gone and neighbours shrugged. 

_Oh, them? Huh. One day they were not here. It happens. Didn't they have a boy? Years ago?_

Instead, Carlos the young scientist looked through his old master's belongings and found an address. His accumulated pay was enough for papers and passage to a strange land where people wore too many clothes and seemed to be obsessed with the weather.

Carlos remembered putting on the European scientist's shirt and suit and boots, hobbling off a ship after a journey he thought might never end, getting on a locomotive, falling asleep and dreaming of a house. In his dream, Carlos pulled the cord that rang the doorbell and the door opened. A small, wiry, elderly woman smiled at him, said, _"Welcome home, Erika said you would come to us at the right time,"_ and offered him corn muffins.

Not for the first time, Carlos wondered if this life was real.

\-----

While Carlos struggled with reality, Cecil struggled with a corkscrew. Jake reached over and took it from him.  
"Seriously, Palmer, you've had enough."  
Cecil scowled.  
"Save it, Jakeyboy," Jake shuddered and Cecil smirked over his twinge of guilt, "I have _not_ had enough and neither have you."  
"Cecil... Ugh, Cecil, I have not had _any_ and this is not the answer to your problems. Give me that!"  
Jake gestured at the bottle in Cecil's other hand. Cecil put it behind his back and wagged a finger at Jake.  
"Oh no, no, no." Cecil stepped away. "I never said it was the _ANSWER,_ but it is a _SOLUTION_ ahahaha, science joke. Ca... haha... Carlos would have laughed."

Jake sighed, dived and grabbed the wine bottle from Cecil's hand. Cecil pouted. Jake pointed the corkscrew at him.  
"Fine, I will open this for you but there are conditions."  
"Jake! I am so sorry... so sorrrrryyy... IcalledyouJakeyboy. It. Was. Ruuuude."  
Jake tried not to smile.  
"Conditions!"  
"Yes! Fine," Cecil snapped. "What _ever_."  
Jake nodded and removed the foil from the bottletop.

"One, when I say you have to stop, you stop. Agreed?"  
Cecil nodded.

"Two, you do not mention Marcus Vansten to me _ever_ again."  
Cecil shook his head vigorously and put a finger across his lips.

"Three, you do not speak to Carlos or Earl in this state. I will look after you."  
Cecil smiled.  
"Jake, Jake."  
Cecil shook his head.  
"Why do I not like you? You're _lovely._ "  
Jake sighed, but smiled. Cecil caught his eye and giggled.  
"You better not be flirting, Cecil. I think it's because I don't want to have sex with you. If you get handsy when you're drunk I swear I will--"  
"No! Nonono. I pr... oh... promise. Earl explained and so did Carlos. Aah... lovely Carlos. You don't want it and I don't like you that way any more. So there. No-o-o... problem."

Jake grinned and shook his head. Marcus, drunk, was horrible. Hands everywhere, insistent until his tipping point into oblivion. Cecil was... not adorable. Jake shook the word out of his head. Cecil was annoying. Needy, affectionate, irritating, vulnerable and annoying. 

Jake gave Cecil the open bottle. With exaggerated care, Cecil took two glasses from the bar and poured wine into both. He handed one to Jake with a show of steadiness.  
"See! I am NOT drunk. Heehee. Yet."

Jake took the glass and drank, reasoning that it was a way of making sure Cecil consumed a little less. Cecil cheered and lifted a billiards cue.  
"Rack 'em up, Jake, I bet I can beat you."  
Jake sighed.  
"Whatever you say, Cecil."

Cecil lasted ten minutes before collapsing heavily onto the bench between shots and sighing, game forgotten.  
"Thing is, Jake, thing is... Sir Carlos has no. No. Ideaaaa."  
Jake raised an eyebrow.  
"No idea?"  
"Wosslike to be me, or you, s'pose."

Jake tidied away the billiard cues and sat beside Cecil.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well," Cecil raised his hand. "Carlos, lovely Carlos, has _respect._ Bet he's never been called names and followed around in case he's a thief."  
Jake rolled his eyes.  
"Oh gods yes, you get that too?"

"And!" Cecil wasn't finished. "I wager our bee-yoo-tiful scientist never had anyone yell _go home!_ at him when he's just, you know, going about his business. Be... because he's got... You know what he's got? that we don't got?"  
Jake raised his eyebows at Cecil. Cecil raised a finger at Jake.  
"Status!"  
Jake snorted and nodded. Cecil refilled both glasses.

"Jake, Jake, Jake."  
Jake laughed.  
"Just one Jake is enough, Cecil."  
"Just one Jake. It oc... occurs to me that,"  
Cecil paused and Jake waited. Cecil closed his eyes.  
"That we have more in common than I thought."  
Jake took the glass from Cecil's hand. Cecil snatched it back.  
"Whoa! Not done. We are not so different, you and me. Jake and Cecil." Cecil giggled. "Except for the sex thing. That's different because I like it and you don't."

Jake tried to take Cecil's glass from him again, but Cecil guarded it close and Jake gave up.  
"Not with you! Jake, not with you. Because you said no already and I only want Carlos and Earl these days. Ooooh! Earl! Earl is the _best._ I should tell him so."

Cecil threw back the contents of his glass and reached for the bottle. "Early-early-earl! What if I leave Carlos and Earl stays? Jake, what will I do?"  
"Oh hush, Cecil, you don't have to make any decisions in this state. Wait until tomorrow."  
Cecil threw an arm around Jake's shoulders.  
"JakeyJake you are so SENSIBLE!"  
Cecil topped up the glass that Jake had not intended to drain.

Somehow, the second bottle merged into the third.

\-------

Earl frowned at Pa Harlan.  
"The standing stones? Why?"  
Pa sighed and rubbed the rough surface of the wooden table.  
"Yeh forget an' ask the same thing every time, son. We do this every year at midsummer night but mostly yer busy. The lot of us, not jist us Harlans. We eat and drink and go up to the Circle. This year you and young Roger will come too. It'll be Roger's first. Ah c'mon now."  
Earl shrugged.  
"Fine. Why not. It's just a daft tradition and he'll think it's exciting to be around the stones at midnight."  
Old Pa smiled and said no more.

The light was fading and Earl called Roger back in.  
"Hey sweetie, I have to go back before it's too dark to see. Do you want to come home with me or stay the night with Grandpa?"  
Roger smiled, reached up for a kiss from Papa then clambered up onto Grandpa's knee.  
"Story about faeries!"

Earl laughed.  
"Goodnight. Look after each other. Back before dinner tomorrow?"  
Old Pa smiled and nodded.

Earl usually enjoyed the march back to the manor but tonight felt different. The closer he got to the house, the more concerned he felt. Earl let himself in the servants' door and crept through the kitchens. The range was cold and crockery littered the drainer. He went upstairs and out onto the main hall. Earl stopped and listened. 

He edged along the hall. Only two rooms showed signs of life. Carlos's laboratory door was locked despite its faint outline of light, and the key was absent. Earl knocked and pressed his ear to the wooden door but received no reply. 

Further down the hall, the door to the billiards room was ajar. Earl peered in, opened the door wide, stared and laughed. In the light of the billiards table lamps, Jake and Cecil were visible, glasses knocked over and empty wine bottle on its side, slumped on the bench and snoring in each other's arms.

\---------

Carlos woke in his laboratory, neck stiff and sore, feeling cold and empty. He stood, stamped life back into his joints and stretched. Carlos moved the chair away from the hidden door, got as far as _"I wonder wh..."_ and stopped. He shook his head, let himself out of the laboratory and headed up to bed. 

Cecil woke in his old bed with a thumping headache for company. He rolled over and groaned.  
"Hey there, drink this. Old Harlan recipe."  
Cecil groaned louder.  
"Oh gods no don't make me drink that again! Earl, if you love me, leave me be!"  
Earl sighed but smiled.  
"Ceece, you know there's an easy way and a hard way, either way you are going to drink this. We both know it, so choose."

Cecil swore and pushed himself up onto his elbow. His world swam and he retched. Earl held a bowl under his face.  
"Ugh. False alarm. Give it here."  
Cecil sat up and held out a hand. Earl knew better. He sat beside Cecil, held Cecil's hair back and pushed the pitcher against Cecil's lip.  
"Ready?"  
Cecil grimaced and nodded. After, Earl let him lie down on his side, bowl to hand.

"Earl?"  
"Mmhmm?"  
"Am I dying?"  
"No faster than anyone else, honey."  
"Oh."

Jake woke with an arm across his chest. He froze but his sleeping partner was not moving. Breathing, yes, but nothing more. Jake felt down his side, he confirmed that he was still wearing the same leggings and vest as the day before. Jake eased out from under the arm and over to the window. He opened the curtains and pulled up the sash.

"Puto infierno!"  
A murmur. The figure pulled the covers over its head, then sat abruptly and called out.  
"Cecil? Ceece!"  
Covers thrown back, wide eyes.  
"Ah. Um. Oh!"  
Carlos bolted out of bed, threw on his lab coat and paused by the door.

"I... Oh no. I used to have this room. Before... I was tired and I came here by mistake and I forgot. I came to what used to be my bed and... anyway good morning Jake and umm..."

Jake waved a hand, threw _"please get out!"_ at Carlos, who ran.

Earl made breakfast for everyone he thought might want it. Cecil, he decided, probably would not eat. He made boiled eggs that could chill for a salad later and toast that could become croutons in case none of the above-stairs inhabitants rose before lunch. 

Carlos and Maureen graced the morning room. Carlos sipped coffee and grimaced. Maureen watched him and smiled.  
"Not up to the usual standard, Sir Carlos?"  
Carlos screwed his eyes closed, shook his head and refilled his cup. He helped himself to eggs and toast, and sat. Jake came in a few moments later, poured coffee and sat stiffly facing Carlos. Carlos did not meet Jake's gaze.

Maureen picked up her tray, added extra coffee and escaped, muttering something cryptic about Cardinal and eggs.

"What happened, Carlos?"  
Carlos darted a glance at Jake.  
"I slept in the laboratory and came to bed in the small hours. In my fatigue I must have forgotten that your room is no longer my room. It used to be, before..."  
"Before Cecil moved in?"  
Carlos nodded but did not look up.  
"No additional harm done I suppose. Carlos, I know you had a fight. Cecil told me--"  
"Cecil told you?"  
Carlos grasped Jake's hand across the table then let go, fearing Jake's reaction should he be nervous after the morning's surprise, and Cecil's reaction should he see.  
"Did Cecil tell you how I can fix this?"

Jake shook his head.  
"I don't think it works like that. Cecil is very aware of how precarious his position is. As am I! But let me tell you about Cecil first because that's what interests you, yes?"  
Carlos nodded and Jake leaned forward to speak.

\------

Cecil stayed in bed until after Harlan's Hangover Remedy promised to remain internal. He got up and used the servants' bathroom, dressed in his own tunic and pants rather than uniform, and headed downstairs. Carlos was not in his bed, which appeared undisturbed. Cecil sighed. 

Cecil walked into the morning room where breakfast things waited to be cleared away. He poured coffee, sniffed it and discarded his cup. He held a hand over the remaining boiled eggs. They were cold, and the toast rack was empty.

Cecil walked slowly from the morning room, every footfall causing a throb in his forehead. A door creaked open behind him and a soft voice called.  
"Cecil?"

Cecil stopped. He leard the door close and footsteps approach. A hand touched his arm.  
"I do not want this to be the end of us. Can we talk? Later?"  
Cecil did not respond, partly because of the headache and partly because the mouthful of coffee he had taken in the morning room threatened to reappear. Carlos squeezed his arm.  
"I have an idea but I do not want to assume that you will agree to it. Cecil, I am not Francesco and I am not Vansten. I am Carlos and I love you. I do not know how to be more than that."  
Carlos squeezed Cecil's arm again and retreated to his laboratory.

Cecil continued downstairs until he found Earl. In the pantry, Cecil clung to Earl, face buried in Earl's shoulder, arms around his neck.  
"Promise you will not leave me without at least a week's notice."  
Earl smiled and kissed Cecil's temple.  
"I promise I will not leave you without at least a week's notice. I'd agree to a month, you know."  
Cecil hugged tighter.  
"A month would be better. Promise?"  
Earl gave a silent laugh. "I promise. Now, what do you need right now? Something to line your stomach before you go see our handsome scientist? Hmm, I think I know what will help. Come with me."  
Earl led Cecil from the pantry and made him sit at the table sipping sugary tea while the kitchen filled with the smell of fried bacon and eggs.

Hangover receding, dizziness and nausea replaced by a dull muzzy feeling, Cecil headed upstairs with Carlos's lunch tray. He pushed open the laboratory door and set down the tray. Carlos looked up from his work but did not smile. Cecil thought he looked exhausted.  
"Carlos, can we leave any important discussion until later?" He addressed the corner of the rug. "Jake and I stayed up late and I drank so much last night that I do not remember going to bed. I expect you are disappointed by my--"  
"Cecil!" Carlos cut in sharply, shaking his head. "Please stop telling me how I should feel." His voice softened and he sighed. "You can no more speak for me than I can for you. Please..."  
But Cecil was no longer in the room. Carlos looked back at his chart, grimaced, crumpled the useless paper up and threw it into the cold fireplace. 

Earl came up later to collect the tray. It was untouched. He lifted the plate of egg sandwiches and placed it in front of Carlos. Earl stroked Carlos's shoulder.  
"Carlos, you have to eat. I'm not going until you've eaten."  
Carlos prodded a sandwich.  
"Did you put Cecil to bed last night?"  
Earl nodded.  
"I came back for you too but I couldn't get in. Jeez, Cecil was out cold, I had to carry him. I've never seen him drink himself into oblivion like that before. Jake was better, I woke him up and he took himself to bed, thank goodness, I did not want the job of undressing _him_. Did you get to bed?"  
Carlos sighed and covered his face.  
"Sort of. I went to my old room. I woke up in Jake's bed."  
Earl covered his mouth with his hand to hide his twitching lips.  
"And how did Jake react to that, hmm?"  
Carlos looked mournfully at Earl and shook his head.  
"Not well, not well at all. I have to tell Cecil."  
Earl shook his head.  
"No you don't, not right now. Jake will say nothing because there's no profit in it for him and Cecil won't find out from me." 

Carlos ate one sandwich then cleared the plate almost without noticing. Earl smiled. He caught sight of paper in the fireplace and picked it up on his way out, stuffing it into his apron pocket. Roger liked to draw and only using one side of expensive paper was wasteful. In the kitchen, Earl smoothed out the sheet on the preparation table, peered at the tiny purple words and smiled. He watched the pantry door for a few seconds.  
"I wonder where on Earth PALMER could be?"  
Palmer emerged, scowling, from the pantry.  
"Harlan, I swear if this is not important... what's that?"  
Cecil pointed. Earl grinned.  
"Just read it, idiot."

\------

Carlos arranged all his reagent bottles in alphabetical order on the shelf and wiped down his workbenches. He sorted his lab glassware by type and size and ordered his correspondence into piles - read, unread and unreadable. He frowned as he finished, Carlos had run out of displacement activities. He sat and stared into the air, numb, trying to analyse what exactly had gone wrong.

Cecil tapped Carlos on the shoulder and he jumped.  
"Cecil!" A hint of a smile. "Will you sit?"  
Cecil unfolded and smoothed the paper against the desk surface. He pulled a stool up next to Carlos.  
"Carlos? This chart looks very scientific, will you explain it to me?"

Carlos recognised the page he had filled with cramped words in the early hours. He sighed.  
"There is your name, in the centre. Here," Carlos indicated a curve starting at the centre top, passing down the right hand side and curling around the bottom, "are all the things I know of that make you upset or sad or angry. I underlined the ones I think upset you most. See?"

Cecil nodded.  
"And there?"  
"Oh," Carlos shrugged. "I tried to list all the things that make you happy, or might make you happy had I only thought to suggest it."  
Cecil pointed.  
"You circled this one."  
"Yes." Carlos stroked a finger across his words. "I wanted to ask you if that was possible for us. If you would consent to it, we could make plans and work out a timescale."

Cecil tapped his chin with his knuckles, and frowned.  
"Hmm. Do you still want to know what I think?"  
Carlos nodded without looking up. Cecil smiled and clasped Carlos's hand in his.  
"You ought to ask me, then."

Carlos swallowed and blinked a few times.  
"Cecil, would you come and live with me somewhere else, somewhere in a country where we can live as equals and not be master and servant, just be us?"  
Cecil dipped his head and looked up at Carlos.  
"Us, and...?"  
Carlos frowned but Cecil saw his face lighten.  
"And I will ask Earl and Roger to come with us."

Cecil shook his head.  
"No. I will not agree to that."  
Carlos's jaw dropped.  
"But Cecil! You are unhappy and afraid of your position. If we moved--"  
Cecil held up his free hand and Carlos quietened to a miserable silence.  
"Where would we go? Earl's life is here with his Pa and Roger. I want to be with Earl so I will stay here too. But I wanted to hear you say it, hear you offer to elevate my position at the expense of yours in the expectation that I would agree. It... it matters to me that you would change your life for me, even though I knew I would have to refuse."

Carlos gripped Cecil's hand.  
"What now, Cecil? We have made each other miserable."  
"And we are still here, you still wanted to take me away from hurtful things and I still considered saying yes. I love that you thought to offer, Carlos. I love you."  
"And I love you, Cecil."  
Cecil smiled.  
"I know."

Carlos and Cecil stood and embraced. Carlos kissed Cecil's neck and Cecil emitted an appreciative _hmm._ Carlos hugged tighter and yawned into Cecil's shoulder.  
"I want to go to bed with you and talk and listen and fall asleep with you. I'm so tired, Cecil."  
"I would like that. You go up, I will tell Earl where we are."

Carlos smiled.  
"Hah, at least I am not so tired that I risk climbing into the wrong bed. Did Earl tell you I woke up with Jake this morning?"


	24. Friends and Opportunities

Carlos realised he was awake and snaked an arm over the snug lump beside him. The lump groaned quietly. Carlos smiled and spooned around it, warm, kissing the small patch of visible skin that might have been cheek or forehead. Cecil stretched out and turned. Carlos stroked Cecil's face.  
"Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?"  
Cecil blinked and rubbed his eyes.  
"I can't remember, so yes, better than I have done for days. Hmm, ha! Who do you prefer waking up next to? Me or--"  
"Please don't say it--"  
"--Jake?"

Cecil giggled. Carlos covered his face with one hand.  
"Are you ever going to let me forget? Never mind. It was such a relief to hear you laugh, even if it was at my expense. I thought you might be angry."  
Cecil held out both arms and Carlos settled down, head on Cecil's shoulder, Cecil stroking his hair.  
"No, hah, you woke up with Jake but he fell asleep in my arms, so Earl says we're even on that score."

Carlos smiled and kissed Cecil's throat.  
"You and Jake made friends?"  
Cecil smiled and pulled Carlos half on top of him.  
"Mmhmm."  
"Were you _very_ drunk?"  
"Can we talk about something else? Like, perhaps, oh, anything?"  
Carlos held tight to Cecil.  
"Some of the things we discussed last night? We could start those today. You could move into the room opposite this one. It's nice. Earl could have the one on the other side of Jake's, below the nursery."  
"Mmm, we were tired last night. Best wait until we talk it through with Earl. He's so... _sensible._ "  
Carlos could not disagree.

Cecil wriggled out of bed, opened the curtains and the window. It was early but the sun promised warmth and the breeze that fluttered the curtains was gentle. Carlos sat up to admire Cecil's graceful movements around the room: picking up discarded clothing, shaking out garments and frowning, deciding what to hang, what to fold and what to put in the laundry hamper.

"You are staring at me."  
Carlos blinked and diverted his gaze to Cecil's face. They both smiled.  
"Yes, I like watching the way your muscles work."  
"I see." Cecil smirked. "You were staring at my backside for _scientific_ reasons?"  
Carlos grinned.  
"I was staring for entirely personal reasons. Come back to bed?"

Jake smiled as he passed Sir Carlos's door, and wandered down to the scullery where Earl stood by the half-range, testing its temperature. Earl turned and smiled.  
"Good morning! Feeling better today?"  
Jake nodded and sat on the stool Earl pointed out to him.  
"Ugh yes, I do not normally drink more than a glass of wine at a time. Marcus would try to get me to let my guard down... Ugh."  
"So you made up with Cecil?"  
"I think we understand each other a little better."  
Earl nodded.  
"Thank you for looking after him. If I'd realised you were also sick I would have brought you Old Pa Harlan's hangover remedy. Pancakes?"

Roger thundered into the scullery as soon as Earl started dropping ladlefuls of batter into hot butter. Earl paused to hug his boy.  
"How many do you want, sunshine?"  
"Six! Because I am six today."  
Earl laughed.  
"I bet you can't eat six pancakes!"  
"I bet I can! Can I take two for Papa Carlos and three for Papa Cecil? They're awake, I heard Papa Cecil laughing."  
Earl grinned and shook his head.  
"Not today, sweetheart. Your papas will ask for food when they want it. Now," Earl flopped pancakes onto three plates and stood by the table. "What kind of cake do you want for your birthday lunch?"  
Roger mumbled through a mouthful of pancake, _"a big one with strawberries and syrup."_

Roger lost his bet and accepted a forfeit of helping to wash up. Jake was summoned to Ortiz's office. He entered after a pause to straighten his waistcoat, and sat down. Josie smiled at him.  
"Have you given any thought to your position?"  
Jake was taken aback.  
"No! I have little say in the matter. I have nowhere else to go unless Sir Carlos puts in a word for me somewhere."

Josie smiled.  
"We all have somewhere else, just not always somewhere so comfortable. You, for example, could change your mind and take over Vansten's empire. You have a head for it, all you have to do is forgive him and you can move back to your old home."  
Jake stood.  
"No. Never. You say _forgive_ like it is a natural thing, expected. Why would I forgive him? Every second under that roof is a reminder of my fear and my hate. I wish never to go there, never to see the man I despise, the man who made me hate myself."

Josie shook her head.  
"Sit yourself down, Jake. I only had to be sure I was not taking your rightful place before Vansten signs the final documents and I move with my angels to Vansten's house."  
Jake frowned but sat, perched on the edge of the wooden chair.  
"Will Marcus still be there?"  
"Of course! He has to be somewhere. He will join the ranks below-stairs and earn his keep." Josie sighed and rolled her eyes. "Seriously, it was not easy to find him a job. He is trained for nothing. Fortunately, washing dishes and cleaning floors are easy tasks to learn."

Meanwhile, Sir Carlos held his valet close and kissed him. Cecil felt Carlos's smile.  
"What?"  
"I was thinking," Carlos murmured, "that I would like not to have to pretend. I would like to have you call me _Carlos_ and me call you _Cecil_ openly in front of guests, and have you join me at dinner, accompany me when I have to pay visits as my companion rather than follow behind as my valet. I would like to see you wear whatever you like and..."  
Cecil shook his head.  
"Don't tease me with a dream that cannot come true, Carlos."

Carlos sighed.  
"I know, but I can still wish to be able to show the depth of my affection without worry over who might see something and who might say something that we would rather they forget. I wish to set you and Earl both up with enough income that if you stay here, I know it is through choice rather than necessity. Cecil, if you could choose to be anywhere, anywhere at all, where would you go? What would you do?"

Cecil laughed and swept fingers through Carlos's hair.  
"A ridiculous question deserves a ridiculous answer. I would go to the Moon and demand to know why it is watching us so closely."  
Carlos stroked Cecil's cheek and kissed him. He grinned.  
"The Moon? It must be at least sixty yards up. You'd never jump that far."

Cecil pushed Carlos onto his back and rolled on top of him.  
"I missed you. When we fell out, I missed you."  
"I missed you too."  
Carlos held Cecil's gaze and stroked his back with long, slow strokes from shoulder to hip. Cecil closed his eyes and smiled.  
"I missed this."  
"Mmhmm, me too."  
Carlos kept stroking, letting his hands get lower each time until he gave up the pretence and massaged lazy circles on Cecil's backside. Cecil _mmhmm_ -ed in appreciation and rocked his hips, torn between his desire to take, his desire to give and his desire not to let go. 

Carlos relaxed and rolled Cecil off sideways. Cecil huffed a complaint.  
"Ugh, sorry Cecil. I really want to but I also _really_ need to bathe. Share the bath? Then I will massage your back properly and we can see what happens from there?"  
Cecil stood up and pulled on his tunic and leggings. He lobbed a shirt at Carlos.  
"I will start filling the bath. You raid the pantry for more oil."

Carlos laughed and dressed quickly. As he scooted through the hidden door to the back staircase, he heard Cecil yell _"DON'T BE LONG"_ and giggle. He paused at the scullery. Earl grinned at him and winked. Carlos felt his face heat up and tried to smooth down his bed-messed hair.

"Papa Carlos!" Roger's head poked around the door. "I am making cake. Look!"  
Carlos smiled and looked where Roger pointed. He was liberally spreading sugar glaze onto a three-layer sponge and dropping sliced strawberries on top, trying to glue more onto the sides with more glaze.  
"That looks so good! Earl, can you tell me where to find--"  
"Top shelf, left hand side, look for a half pint earthenware jug. I decanted some for you last night."  
Carlos flashed Earl a smile and Earl laughed. 

Carlos put the jug on his nightstand and joined Cecil in the bathroom. Cecil finished pumping hot water into the large tub and smiled at Carlos.  
"Can I wash your hair for you?"  
Carlos sniggered.  
"Will you start at my feet?"

Clean and wrapped in towels, Carlos checked the passage was clear and darted back to his bedroom. He held the door and Cecil followed, giggling.  
"I liked my old room with the bathroom attached," complained Carlos.  
"And the tiny bed," reminded Cecil, "just big enough for two."  
Carlos felt his face heat up again. He shook his head and laughed.  
"Come on, lie face down and I will ease your tense back muscles."

Carlos moved pillows and Cecil lay face down, ankles and hips supported by pillows, face resting on his arms. Carlos dribbled oil onto his hand and rubbed his palms together to warm the oil. Cecil still shrieked and bucked as cold oil met warmed skin. Carlos laughed and applied more oil until Cecil's back and buttocks glistened. Then he began long, slow strokes with flat hands from Cecil's backside up to his shoulders and down again. 

Cecil let out quiet groans of contentment. Encouraged, Carlos changed from stroking to kneading, working up one side of Cecil's back and down the other. Next, Carlos used his thumbs to work along the muscles at the crest of Cecil's hip, before stroking down and around Cecil's gluteal muscles. Cecil moaned and shifted his hips. Carlos grinned.

"More of that?"  
"Yes please."  
Carlos oiled his hands again and shuffled down Cecil's thighs. He smoothed the oil onto Cecil's backside with slow, circular movements and watched as Cecil reacted by tightening his muscles and thrusting slowly against the pillow under his hips. 

"I think," Carlos said, without stopping his massage, "you would be more comfortable with an extra pillow under your hips.  
"Oh? You might be right."  
Cecil pulled another pillow from the top of the bed and raised himself up enough to tuck it under himself. Carlos waited for Cecil to settle and moved his hands more firmly, squeezing and kneading at Cecil's upper thighs and backside. Carlos nudged one knee between Cecil's legs, then the other. Cecil moved upon silent request and Carlos knelt, hands on Cecil's rump, wondering how to ask for what he wanted. 

Carlos wondered if Cecil was as turned on at his touch as he was at touching. He resumed stroking Cecil's backside, flat hands pressing up from thigh to hip, thumbs moving closer to Cecil's entrance with every pass. Cecil rocked his hips, thrust against the pillows and groaned. Carlos reached for the oil again. He poured a dribble directly onto the cleft of Cecil's buttocks and trailed it down across Cecil's entrance with one thumb. Cecil angled his hips up as if seeking more contact. Carlos obliged.

With both thumbs, Carlos worked the oil around and over Cecil's entrance. With each pass, Cecil moaned and thrust. Carlos pushed the tip of one thumb past the outer ring of muscle and twitched against the inner. Cecil thrust back and swore.  
"Carlos! You fucking tease! Do it! Fuck me! Use your fingers, use your cock, uuuh I want you right now!"

Later, lying together, slick with sweat in the heat of the late morning June sun, locked in each other's arms, Cecil giggled and asked if their bathwater would still be warm. Carlos laughed and kissed Cecil fondly then raced him to the bathroom down the hall.

\------

Lunch was for Roger's birthday, strawberry cake and tea. After lunch Earl packed what remained of the cake, called an invitation out to Cecil and Carlos to join them later, and took his boy off to the Harlan family celebrations. Roger chattered about how Janice Carlsberg would be there too and they were going to see how fast her chair would go now he was six and strong enough to push. As Cecil and Carlos waved them off, Cecil sighed.

"I would have liked to have seen Janice today but thank goodness that colossal ass Carlsberg did not come here to the Manor. Perhaps we can call in on Old Pa Harlan later?"  
"Oh?" Carlos smiled. "I like Carlsberg. Seems perfectly polite to me. You don't like him much? His wife, Aby, seems a good sort too."  
Cecil set his jaw in a grimace. "He's my brother in law. Aby is my sister."  
Carlos laughed out of surprise.  
"I should have seen it sooner! Cecil, she does not exactly resemble you, but I can see the connection. Surely you can see your sister and niece without Carlsberg? Invite them whenever you want. It is good for Roger to see children his age."  
"Whatever that is," added Cecil.

Carlos took Cecil's hand.  
"Come on in. I have a guest coming and we can be ourselves with her. She knows me better than anyone other than you and Earl."  
Cecil frowned.  
"Someone from your past?"  
"Yes. One of my best friends."  
Cecil smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "A girlfriend? Should I be worried?"  
"Haha, no. She is a _scientist._ "

The manor was quiet on midsummer. Earl and Roger were at Old Pa Harlan's for a family celebration, Josie and her Erikas were surveying the Vansten residence in preparation for their move, Maureen and Dana took the opportunity to go into town for the afternoon and said not to wait up. The groundsmen and stablehands lazed around in the sunshine, happy that the horses were in the paddock, the sheep were in the high moor and life could take care of itself for a few hours.

Carlos and Cecil lounged in the laboratory. Carlos double checked his correspondence while Cecil read a novel, dreamy expression making Carlos smile. Cecil noticed he was being watched and smiled back. Carlos grinned.  
"Have your musketeers kissed yet?"  
Cecil sighed.  
"No, this author is remiss in that department. I believe I could alter a few scenes here and there to suit my tastes better."  
"Then you should," Carlos laughed. "I have paper and whatnot. I'm sure Earl and I would be interested to read your improvements."  
Cecil smiled.  
"I will, but not when you have a visitor. When do you expect her?"  
"I thought she would be here by now. She may be delayed. If it is agreeable with you, I will challenge Jake to billiards while you read."  
Cecil nodded and waved his hand at Carlos, face back in his book before Carlos finished speaking. Carlos stroked Cecil's hair on the way out and Cecil grasped Carlos's hand and kissed it. 

There was no response from Jake's room when Carlos knocked, the kitchens were silent and the Manor creaked and settled at rest. Carlos paused at the billiards room door, he heard voices.  
"Ha! That's our Carlos all right! Insists on--"  
"Rochelle?"  
Carlos pushed the door open, a smile on his face and a hand ready for a handshake. A woman stepped forward, both arms out for an embrace that would have crushed a small grizzly.

"Carlos! Oh look at you, quite the gentleman these days. Jake here let me in, showed me a room I could use and has been entertaining me with billiards and stories. Haven't you?"  
Jake smiled and nodded, Carlos extricated himself from Rochelle's arms.  
"Thank you, Jake. I would introduce you but I see Rochelle is ahead of me. Rochelle, this is the person I wrote to you about."

Rochelle's face lit up.  
"I know! Carlos, I'm surprised you are willing to let him go! You could use someone with a head for figures like his. I mean, you have a head for results and data and patterns, but Jake is... strategic. We've had a fascinating couple of hours discussing the logistics of an expedition to study the forms of life of the Antipodes and Antarctica."

Jake took his shot before laying down his cue.  
"Would you like me to go make tea or something while you two catch up?"  
Rochelle beamed at Jake.  
"Not at all, Carlos knows I don't need much catching up. Did he tell you we were on an expedition in the Amazon years ago? No? Well." Rochelle looked sombre for a moment. "You get to know people pretty well in circumstances like that. Carlos is a good man. Not always a good judge but I think he's right about you, Jake."

Jake frowned.  
"What do you mean?"  
Rochelle glared at Carlos.  
"Did you not tell him?"  
Carlos shrugged.  
"I mentioned that I may be able to find him a position as assistant to another scientist." 

"Huh." Rochelle looked at Jake. "Did Carlos tell you anything about my studies?"  
Jake shook his head.  
"No, nothing at all. But I was perhaps not in the best position to understand, at the time."  
"Well, Jake, I need an assistant. If you accept the position you would be away from home for months, possibly a year or more. You do not have to decide right away but--"  
"Yes."

Jake silenced Rochelle. Carlos sucked in a breath and held it. Rochelle stared Jake down and Jake did not look away.  
"Yes?"  
"Yes." Jake nodded. "You need someone who can keep track of schedules and finances, someone with no family and no home to worry about. Someone who does not form casual attachments. Someone like me. I need a position where my skills are of more value than my face."  
Rochelle grinned.  
"Pack light, then. We can discuss duties later and get you whatever you need in Plymouth."  
"Easy," Jake smiled. "I own nothing."

Carlos let out his breath. Rochelle turned to face him.  
"I hear you are in need of funds, Carlos my dear! Oh hush," Rochelle held up a hand at Carlos's frown, "you know you can trust me and I can trust you. I have a colleague setting sail on a three month survey of the southern oceans, embarking in time for their spring and our Autumn. Good terms for the right kind of scientist, if I put your name forward you could state your price. They would consider themselves lucky to ensnare a scientist with your standing."  
Carlos, wide eyed, shrugged. Jake nodded at him.  
"Carlos? If it would help I can suggest an amount that would keep the Manor afloat for five years at reduced occupancy. Your loved ones would be safe."

Carlos nodded back. Rochelle clapped her hands and laughed.  
"Are we settled, then? Jake is my new assistant on _The Timeless_ and will leave with me when I depart in a couple of days. Carlos will be chief science officer on _The Bluffs_ and will travel to Plymouth ready to set sail in October?"  
Jake and Carlos nodded, but only Jake smiled.  
"This is a cause for celebration! Carlos, I will send you an itinerary and a scientific proposal as soon as I can. You should be home by Spring. Three months, maybe four, five at most if weather is a hindrance, and you will have stories to tell for the rest of your life and enough observations for at least one book."

Carlos felt sick and dizzy. Rochelle excused herself, Jake followed her with his gaze and his smile.  
"Rochelle is unlike anyone else I have ever met! Carlos, she is..."  
"She is a scientist, Jake. That is who she is. Do not tell Cecil what I have agreed to do."  
Jake put a hand on Carlos's arm.  
"Carlos, thank you for recommending me. Rochelle is the first person I have met who cares nothing for me other than what I know and what I can do. She wants me for my abilities, not because I look a particular way or can be used or pitied. I will not make you regret this."

"Jake," Carlos took Jake's hand from his arm and squeezed it gently. "Promise me you will not tell Cecil or Earl or _anyone_ that I plan to go away."  
Jake frowned. "Of course not. Anyway, you will be coming back after the winter. Three to five months, she said."  
Carlos nodded and averted his eyes from Jake’s face.  
"I know, but I want to be the one to tell Cecil and Earl, in my own time and in my own way."  
Jake smiled then looked worried. He headed for the door.  
"I should go tell Rochelle that, in case she encounters Cecil."

Earl had left instructions for dinner on the kitchen table. Rochelle read Earl's note and laughed.  
_"If you are hungry enough you will make something, please do not burn my copper bottoms."_  
Cecil smiled stiffly.  
"Earl is Sir Carlos's cook, he's very talented. I will look in the pantry."  
Rochelle nodded. Carlos followed Cecil out. 

In the pantry, Cecil almost growled.  
"I don't trust her!"  
Carlos stroked Cecil's hair.  
"She is one of my oldest friends. I promise you, she can be trusted. She knows... she knows what I am and what I am not."  
"Meaning?"  
Carlos sighed.  
"Rochelle knows where I came from and that I am... not the marrying type. Neither is she."  
Cecil frowned. "Huh. Would she like to meet Maureen and Dana? She's like Maureen only... only _more_ , ugh!"  
Carlos took Cecil's hands.  
"No, I think she and Jake will find some common ground."  
Cecil huffed.  
"Fine. I still think we should introduce your Rochelle to our Maureen. Do I have to spend the evening socialising politely?"  
Carlos sighed.  
"Do whatever you want, Cecil. Like I said, we can be who we are around Rochelle."

Carlos left the pantry feeling annoyed. Cecil left the pantry carrying a platter of cold roast chicken and a loaf of bread. He placed the food on the table in the servants' dining room and called through that dinner was served. Jake ushered Rochelle in, Carlos trailed looking morose. Cecil smirked, walked over to Carlos and kissed him.

Jake looked away, reddening. Rochelle laughed.  
"Carlos! You said you found love without looking for it but you did not tell me you had such a sweet boyfriend!"  
Cecil clasped Carlos around the waist. Carlos closed his eyes and shook his head.  
"Ceece..."  
Carlos opened his eyes and looked at Cecil. Cecil grinned.  
"You said we could just be who we are with your guest. So be who you are." Cecil turned to Rochelle. "Ha! Will you tell? Can you keep a secret?"

Rochelle shrugged.  
"Who in the name of all the gods cares what I have to say? When in the last month have you seen a female name in print other than in shame or ridicule or decoration or helplessness? Huh. When I submit my work for publication in journals I masquerade as _Henry Rochel, Esquire_ just to ensure my work is read without a sneer."  
Cecil's face froze. He left the room. Carlos turned to Rochelle but she gestured at him to go after Cecil.

"Ceece! Wait!"  
Carlos caught up with Cecil before he reached the pantry door.  
"We can talk here about anything, there's only us."  
Cecil's face burned, Carlos felt it when he stroked Cecil's cheek.  
"I never... Carlos, I never considered... Rochelle is so arrogant but..."  
Cecil sighed and closed his eyes. Carlos kissed him.  
"If you expect a demure lady who follows social convention, you will find Rochelle grates even more than Maureen. See Rochelle as a person, Cecil, a complicated, clever, unconfident person with a shield of bravado and a show of imperviousness. Let her settle here," Carlos almost laughed at Cecil's horrified expression, "just for a couple of days! She will show her real self. Don't think of her as a woman or as a man. She's a scientist, and a good one."

Cecil fixed Carlos with a stare.  
"You are a scientist but you are not annoying," Carlos smiled. Cecil kissed him and added under his breath, "most of the time."

Carlos led Cecil back to the dining room by the hand and sat beside him. Carlos chatted with Rochelle about science and mutual acquaintances while Cecil rolled his eyes at Jake. Jake smiled. Rochelle caught Cecil's expression and stuttered to a halt.  
"I am so sorry! Cecil, Jake, please forgive me. I have not seen Carlos for so long and he is responsible for nurturing my love of science. I joined an expedition Carlos led when I was just out of college with a certificate of attendance in botany because women may not graduate, and he took me on as one of his assistants. Why don't I tell you some stories from Carlos's past instead?"  
Rochelle’s grin infected Jake, and even Cecil’s face twitched. Carlos groaned and shook his head.  
"Rochelle, please, no one needs to hear about--"  
"--the time our intrepid Carlos got bitten on the arse by a howler-monkey when he was trying to impress one of our guides?" Rochelle looked at Cecil. "I bet you've seen the scars. Bet he told you he sat on a thorn bush."  
Cecil rested his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands and gave Rochelle his full attention.  
"Go o-o-on?"  
Rochelle laughed. Carlos let his head hit the table.

Later, after a session of billiards and gossip, Rochelle excused herself and went to bed, citing a long journey and too many late nights recently. Cecil smirked at Jake.  
"Looks like you found the right person after all."  
Jake laughed and shook his head.  
"Oh, no. It's not like that at all. Rochelle is... she is... well." Jake took his final shot with accuracy and smiled at his win. "Interesting. I want to spend time with her, listen to her, I want her to like being with me. But!" Jake held up a hand as Cecil sniggered, "I have no wish to...um... pursue anything more."  
Carlos smiled.

Jake left, muttering something about wanting a fresh mind for the morning. Cecil smiled at Carlos and Carlos grinned back. Cecil wagged a finger at Carlos.  
"Did you plan this?"  
"What? Of course not," Carlos replied. "How could I plan for something with so many uncontrollable variables?"  
"But you know Jake and you know Rochelle and..." Cecil waggled his eyebrows, "...you _know..._ "  
"Fine! I admit I hoped they would be friends. Jake needs someone who can be close to him without making physical demands. Rochelle likes affection but not passion. Why not put them together and observe the result?"

Cecil laughed.  
"You, Carlos, are a _scientist._ If you are not too tired, can we go pay our respects to Old Pa Harlan? His community gatherings are always worth a visit.”  
Carlos shrugged.  
“Yes, I see no harm in forging closer links with Roger’s family.”


	25. Midsummer Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for house fire & mentions of death in this chapter

Roger saw his grandpa in the tiny herb garden Earl kept neat for him, and ran. Old Pa Harlan grinned at his grandson and swept him up into a brief but solid bear-hug. Roger beamed.  
"I'm _six!_ "  
The boy presented himself, pulled up to his entire three feet tall, just as Earl came round the corner.  
"Goodness, the dandelions are tall this year!" Earl ruffled Roger's hair and Roger ducked, giggling. "Brought you some things, Pa. There's cake and..." Earl laughed as Roger's head whipped round. "Yes, I brought the rest of the cake. And a few other nice things."  
Pa hugged Earl and kissed his cheek.  
"Come away in. There's guests already."

The Carlsbergs stayed until Janice looked tired, thanked the Harlans for their hospitality and promised a return invitation. Janice grinned and waved at Roger, then beckoned him over. Roger blushed when Janice apologised for not having brought him a birthday gift, and offered him a carved, wooden bracelet that slipped off her wrist with some effort. Roger stared at it.  
"Go on," Earl said, "What should you say now?"  
"Th... thank you." Roger put the bracelet on. "It's pretty."  
Janice nodded.  
"I know! Uncle Cecil taught me how to make them."  
Roger frowned.  
"If my papa Cecil is your uncle, that makes you my..." Roger looked at Earl for confirmation, "...cousin?"

Aby Carlsberg smiled at her nephew, but said nothing. Steve lifted Janice up and took her out into the midsummer evening while Aby fetched her chair, pulling it like a cart behind her. Steve deposited Janice into the wicker seat, checked that she was secure and comfortable, then Janice's parents took one handle each to lift the front wheels and pulled her away.

Janice whooped and begged to go faster.

Old Pa punched Roger's arm gently.  
"Right my young lad, time to go up to our family." He looked at Earl's questioning expression. "Ah now, come now, you've forgotten again! It's a warm night, ye'll not need yer coats. Come on."  
Earl looked at Roger and shrugged.  
"Grandpa wants to go for a walk. You ready?"  
Roger trotted after his grandfather, slipping his small hand into Old Pa's massive, callused paw as Earl trailed behind.

Old Pa still thought of himself as Harlan the Head Groundsman. He had no memory of his first day, it would be closer to the truth to say he had developed awareness of being around the Manor from a quite young age and gradually took on whatever role the Manor required of him. He remembered learning herbs alongside a girl called Cathy and smiled as he thought of how they passed on that passion together to young Earl. Ma Harlan always said the boy was a precious gift. It was a shame she had not seen her oldest boy grow into the man she would have been so proud of. 

Roger chattered away to his grandpa and his grandpa half listened. The boy quietened once he realised where they were going. Old Pa smiled down at him and nodded.  
"Stone Circle, eh? Ye like it there?"  
Roger murmured a happy sound. Earl lagged further behind.

Old Pa thought of himself as Will. He allowed Billy to friends who knew no better, William on Sundays and in front of the magistrate, but Will Harlan to himself and his family. He was a Harlan as much as Earl was, as much as Roger was. He knew that as absolute truth in a world full of uncertainty.

"We'll just wait for yer Pa," Will Harlan steadied the boy's shoulder and smiled. "He's no' as used to this as we are, eh?"  
Roger raced ahead regardless, he knew where he was going.

Will waited for his son. Earl jogged to catch up.  
"Are we off to the stone circle?" Earl enquired. "It'll be dark soon and there's no' much moonlight. Is it safe?"  
Will linked his arm with Earl's.  
"Aye, safest place on Earth, for us."  
Earl shrugged and smiled at the older man's fancy. It was a warm night and Earl had memories of other nights spent with his father, lying on their backs in the cool grass, gazing up at the stars.  
"Then lead on!"

The stone circle loomed in its own silence. Dusk deepened the blue shadows and starlings made dynamic, fluid shapes in the air as they flocked before arguing over roosts in the trees around the clearing and settling into peace for another night. The summer breeze dropped its honeysuckle scent and skirted around the perimeter of the stones, barely bothering a blade of the long, thick grasses that tufted around their bases. Even Roger seemed subdued, awed, as he walked with cat-like quiet from stone to stone, touching each one with a palm and looking at its surface with unfocused eyes.

Will paused at the widest gap between the two tallest stones. Earl waited beside him.  
"Pa?"  
Will smiled at Earl and patted his arm.  
"It has been a while, my boy, but we are all so pleased you are here today. You have been missed."  
Earl frowned but did not have time to question his father. Will took Earl's hand and walked him over the threshold.

Roger was no longer alone.

Earl stood rooted to the spot. The stones were there, curving around the edge of his perception. When he focused, stared at one, imagined its warm, grainy surface and the lichens that clung to life on its face, it solidified in front of him and he could almost reach out to touch, but then the rocky certainty shimmered away and Earl realised he was reaching out to something else, something aware of his fears and his joy.

Roger raced over.  
"Papa! Papa! I know _all_ their names now!"  
Distracted, Earl's attention snapped to his son. He shook his head and the otherworldly visions became ordinary twilight under a deep blue sky, forgotten in a flash.  
"Oh you do, now?" Earl laughed. "Go on then, what's that one called?"  
Earl pointed at the stone beside Will.  
"Oh that one's easy, Papa. That was the first one I learned. That's Roger."

Will paused, his hand almost touching one of the stones. He watched Earl's face, smiled at his smile. Earl patted Roger's shoulder.  
"Roger like you?"  
Roger frowned.  
"No, silly! He's Roger too but not like me. He's Roger like Grandpa's grandpa."

Will walked the four steps over to Roger.  
"You can tell? How long have you known?"  
Roger laughed at his grandfather.  
"Forever!" 

Will laughed and pointed out another stone.  
"What do you call that one?"  
Roger pulled Will over to the stone. He reached out a small hand and closed his eyes.  
"This is Mary-Catherine. She is very happy tonight."  
Will stood with his mouth open. By the time he found words for his question, Roger had moved on. Will shook his head and stared at the stone. He caressed its rough surface, thought of memories of the one he loved so much, and closed his eyes.

Still touching the standing stone, Will lowered himself carefully to the ground and sat on the grass at its foot.  
_"I still miss you, Cathy my love, so many days I long to be scattered here with you and..."_  
Will hid his tears with his other hand. The stone felt warm to touch, and although he could not swear he _heard_ it, he was absolutely certain the words in his head did not come from him.  
_"Will, my sweet William, I wish I had comfort for you but you have work to do. The boy needs your Harlan strength. I will be here when you are ready. We will all be here to welcome you home. But not yet, be patient another year."_

Will leaned against the stone and sobbed without shame. On the other side of the circle, Roger giggled with the effort of trying to touch two at a time. Earl stood a little off-centre, eyes closed, the ghost of a frown troubling his face. He paced a step or two one way then another, pausing and tilting his head, then abruptly sat down. 

Roger carried on trying to stretch his arms out, then an arm and a leg. He pulled off his boots to stand bare-toed in dew-damp grass and reached out in a balletic pose to touch the stone in front with fingertips and the one behind with pointed toes. Roger grinned, delight in his face, until he fell over. He stayed on his back, pointing up at the stars.

Will's tears dried with time to leave a gaping void inside. But he sensed Cathy with him even as he stood up and relinquished contact with what was, after all, just limestone that sparkled in the meagre moonlight. He walked over and sat by Earl.

"You know him, you find him anew every time and you forget."

Earl smiled at his father.  
"I know, he told me. I forget I had a brother for such a short time. Was he much like me?"  
Will smiled and sighed at the question he had answered so many times before.  
"We were not graced with his presence for long enough to know. But you sense him, aye? Is he happy?"  
Earl closed his eyes and worked his fingers into the earth.  
"He is... he... belongs."  
Will nodded.  
"He's with 'is mam. I... I can't see 'im at all any more. He's fading away from me, or I'm fading away from him or--"

Earl gripped His father's hand and Will Harlan saw his younger son in Cathy's arms, frozen, smiling forever the way they had been the last time he had seen them in life. He had not been permitted to see them in death, the priest had held young Earl fast and the apprentice groundsman had pinned Will down until the blackened shell of the old groundsman's cottage had been cleared. 

Will Harlan wept again for his loss while Earl wept for his find. Roger skipped from stone to stone, chattering about everything and listening to everyone.

After a while, Earl realised he was lying on his back, his head beside his father's and his son's, staring up at the clear night sky. Will snored. Roger was restless. Earl pointed straight up.

"Know what that is, Roger?"  
Roger scoffed.  
"It's a STAR papa. Papa Carlos told me about them. I know all about stars."  
"Ah! Well did he now. Did Papa Carlos tell you how the stars got to be frends? Mmh?"  
Roger turned his head to look uncomfortaby at his papa.  
"No-o-o?"  
Earl grinned and reached for Roger's hand and Will's.  
"Well," he began. "Let me tell you a story..."

Roger and his grandpa slept easily within the circle, above the grass and beneath the stars. Earl could not settle; the tufts and tussocks were lumps under his back and the dew chilled him. He got up and walked around the stone circle, llistening to the hoots and yelps and rustling of nocturnal life in the trees. Here and there startled orange eyes stared up at him from low to the ground, or green double points from the undergrowth at the edge of the trees. A flash of recognition and then gone. 

Earl wandered beyond the perimeter of the standing stones and into the woodland. He looked down where the trees met a shallow ravine. He could clamber down there easily even in the dark, but a small child risked injury. Earl turned, the stones were invisible although he knew exactly where they were. Roger had not followed. Earl walked back to the stones, looming silent over his family, and sat to think and wait for grey light to wake the birds that would raise a hymn to the sunrise.

A pale sun peeked above the horizon and brought dawn colour to the Vale. Will stamped feeling back into his legs, woke Roger enough to lift him, then poked Earl with his foot until Earl grumbled back to consciousness and the family traipsed back to Old Pa's cottage to sleep awhile on softer beds. 

At the manor, Carlos and Cecil snored comfortably, having decided on an early night after a twilit walk out to the Harlan cottage using cover of darkness to hide their affection, only to find the cottage empty and stumble home again. 

Jake was awake between bouts of fitful sleep. After excusing himself from company after dinner, Jake found Rochelle in the passageway between the bathroom and her guest bedroom. Rochelle smiled.  
"Jake. Goodnight again. We have so much to discuss that I find it difficult not to launch into schedules and balance sheets. You will tell me, won't you? If I get a little too obsessed and monopolise your attention?"

Jake felt giddy. He considered a polite goodnight and escape to his room, but he was to be an explorer soon. He grinned and a nervous giggle rose up his chest.  
"I admire your enthusiasm! It is quite intoxicating to listen and think that I will be part of this adventure. I would, um, gladly discuss arrangements further but you are tired and I should not make such demands on your energy."

"Oh!" Rochelle's face lit up. "I would happily speak with you further. Living on a scientific expedition ship is probably unlike anything you have experienced. The accommodation will be cramped and shared, food will be rationed, work is rarely easy and, well." Rochelle adjusted the voluminous robe she wore, "You get to bathe the salt crust off only when it rains. It is nowhere near as luxurious as even the poorest of tenant farmer's hovels. I do worry that you will suffer from the deprivation, repent and resent your decision to join me." 

Jake almost laughed.  
"Perhaps I should set your mind at rest. I was not born into a life of ease. Um, I hesitate... but, um, will you join me? My room has comfortable chairs and I can take notes if you care to tell me more about our expedition."

Jake clamped his lips tight together. His face burned at the thought that he had just invited a woman into his bedchamber, a woman wearing a bathrobe, whom he had met only a few hours earlier, a guest and friend of his host. He shook his head.  
"I apologise, it was rude of me to ask and..."

Jake stopped because Rochelle was grinning at him. Jake covered his face and giggled.  
"Jake?" Rochelle held out a hand. Jake clasped it. "Asking was not rude. Surprising perhaps. Do you understand what I mean if I say I have no desire for the most intimate company?"  
Jake nodded slowly, eyes on Rochelle's, face sober.  
"I think so."  
Rochelle nodded.  
"Good. Goodnight, Jake."

Jake went to bed with a head full of information and questions, but the ones that kept him awake were personal.

Late morning saw Earl and Roger banging the herb garden gate and letting themselves in through the servants' door with no regard for noise. Roger thumped his way upstairs, instructed to wash and change. Earl lit the half-range in the scullery and started clearing up the detritus from the cold dinner he had left for the remaining occupants of the manor.

Earl took the coffee beans from the larder and poured some into the hopper of the grinder. Just as his arm began to ache from turning the handle, Carlos appeared at the door to the passageway.

"Good morning Earl! Did you have a nice time last night?"  
Carlos smiled. Earl waved him into the scullery and pulled out a stool for Carlos. Carlos sat, Earl passed him the coffee grinder. Carlos groaned but got on with the task.

"I think so. Pa wanted to go for a walk up to the stones but we all fell asleep and stayed out until dawn."  
Carlos grinned up at Earl.  
"Ah. Cecil and I came by but you were out. Roger had a good time, he's busy telling Cecil all sorts of stories about your family."

Earl shrugged.  
"Huh. Pa must have told him about his recent ancestors I suppose. Roger remembers stories well."  
Carlos frowned.  
"So last night, you three went to the stone circle and just fell asleep?"  
"I think so," Earl explained. "I must have been tired. I remember walking into the circle, laughing about something Roger was doing to try to stretch between two stones, I think we looked at the stars for a bit then I woke up propped up against the outside of the circle because Pa was kicking my leg."  
"Hmmm," Carlos stroked his chin while Earl tipped the grounds into the coffee pot. "Roger is very good at storytelling. He's made up the most amazing tales overnight."  
Earl grinned and winked.  
"We can all invent stories when we feel the need."

Once the coffee was brewing and Earl had a moment free, Carlos got up and held him tight. Carlos kissed Earl's cheek and rubbed his back. Earl laughed.  
"Aw, what's this for?"

Carlos sighed.  
"Can I tell you something and you not tell Cecil yet?"  
Earl pushed Carlos back a little.  
"Now I can't promise that, Carlos, if he needs to know then I'll tell 'im."  
Carlos bit his bottom lip and looked over at the doors to the main kitchen and to the passageway. Earl rolled his eyes.  
"Pantry."

In the cool dim room, Carlos put his arms around Earl's waist and leaned his head on Earl's shoulder. Earl frowned, Carlos had only distracted him from his work a few times, mostly early in their relationship and, Earl suspected, at Cecil's suggestion. Earl didn't mind, he liked Carlos well enough and he could see that Carlos was a stabilising influence on Cecil. Earl stroked Carlos's back and swept the stray hair from his face.

"Carlos?" Earl heard Carlos's breath catch and felt the arms around his waist tighten. "Hey, Carlos, sweetheart," Earl thought the endearment sounded odd when it was not directed at Cecil. "What's going on? Did something happen last night?"

Carlos held on to Earl until his emotion was back under control. Earl kissed Carlos's forehead.  
"Come on, tell me."  
Carlos took another deep breath and closed his eyes.  
"Earl, will you take extra good care of Cecil while I am gone?"


	26. Nude and Naked are Not the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go look at [ this lovely painting ](http://the-child-from-italy.tumblr.com/post/137068344112/another-illustration-i-did-for?utm_campaign=SharedPost&utm_medium=Email&utm_source=TumblriOS) made by the-child-from-italy.tumblr.com

Cecil glared at Carlos.  
"I can feel you wanting to ask me. I can feel you bursting to know and being too polite to ask."

Carlos shook his head.  
"Ceece, I will not pry into your secrets. I confess that I am curious but you can tell me or not tell me as you wish. I am sorry that the painter was such a... such a..."

"Bastard?" supplied Earl.

"Charming bastard," Cecil nodded. "I was only about nineteen. I hadn't even been nineteen for very long. What did I know about the deceit people will use to get what they want?"

Carlos sat beside Cecil on the battered laboratory sofa and enveloped him in a hug. Cecil leaned his head on Carlos's shoulder. Earl stood behind Cecil and stroked his hair.

Carlos cleared his throat and glanced up at Earl.  
"It was a very nice portrait, Ceece, really showed off how lovely you are."  
"Mmhmm," Earl winked at Carlos. "It was beautifully done. The bastard had some talent."  
"The charming bastard," Cecil corrected.

Carlos grinned.  
"And that pose, was that deliberate? I mean, did he tell you to sit like that?"  
Cecil frowned and rubbed his chin.  
"I don't... No, not exactly."

 

Cecil closed his eyes to imagine better the warmth of that day so long ago.  
"I was bathing in the pool. I liked to cool off there on hot days. Strip off, slip into the cool water, shriek as it hit my balls..."  
Cecil waited with a smile for Earl and Carlos to finish giggling.  
"...lie submerged for a while until I felt cool then sit on the edge to dry off in the sun."

Carlos rubbed Cecil's arm.  
"That sounds perfect!"  
Cecil laughed and held up one hand, thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart.  
"There were fish. Little ones."  
Earl shuddered and pulled a face.

"Anyway," Cecil smiled at one of his nicer memories, "he came out of the villa into the courtyard behind me and I turned to look at him. He just stopped and stared and said, _"Stare fermo, bel ragazzo!"_ and came back with his sketchbook. Well of course I moved! But he asked me to repeat the way I had looked at him over and over until he was happy."

Carlos made brief eye contact with Earl. Earl smirked back at Carlos.  
"Hey, Ceece, can you show Carlos and me how you posed for the sketches? I'd really like to see."  
Cecil sat up, drew his teeth over his lower lip, looked around and shook his head.  
"Not here. There's nothing the right height to sit on."  
Carlos stroked his chin with thumb and forefinger.  
"Hmm. How high was it, Ceece?"  
"A little higher than a dining chair but lower than the table." Cecil shrugged. "There's nothing quite right here."  
Carlos nodded.  
"Oh? Hmm, I think my bed might be the correct height."  
Cecil raised his eyebrows.  
"Really? Huh. I think you might be right, Carlos. Should we go upstairs?"

 

Cecil perched on the edge of the bed and looked back over his right shoulder at Earl and Carlos. He frowned.  
"Like this."  
"Mmhmm," Carlos nodded, "but there's something not quite correct. Earl?"  
"Oh! Um," Earl stroked his jaw. "Might be the tunic. Cecil was not wearing a tunic in the portrait."

Cecil pulled his eyebrows down, narrowed his eyes and held Carlos's gaze for a moment. He puffed a breath out through his nose.  
"Would you like me to remove my tunic?"  
"Yes please," Carlos replied immediately, "if you want to."  
"On that day I only wore the towel I sat on."  
Earl offered Cecil a clean towel from Carlos's linens.

Cecil stood up and looked from Carlos to Earl and back.  
"You can, um," he frowned, "you can just ask me, you know."  
Earl fingered at the fabric of the towel still hanging from his hand.  
"Ask you what, sweetheart?"  
"To come upstairs and take my clothes off for you. I do not mean to spoil your game but I am uncomfortable with play acting this particular scene for you."

Carlos and Earl were by Cecil's side in an instant. Carlos put his arms around Cecil, who stood unyielding.  
"Cecil, I am so sorry! This was thoughtless of us."  
Earl stood back a little.  
"Sorry, Cecil."  
Cecil looked over at Earl.  
"You in particular should have known better. Ah, I thought... I thought I should be over this, I thought I would be able to make fun of the whole, sorry situation, but I just want to forget."

Cecil turned and relaxed against Carlos. He wrapped his arms around Carlos's neck, closed his eyes and Carlos kissed his forehead. Earl stepped forward and put his arms around Cecil from behind. Carlos and Earl both leaned in slightly until Cecil giggled and squirmed. Earl smiled and kissed the back of Cecil's neck.

"Are we forgiven?"  
Cecil squirmed a little more, careful about applying pressure in all the deliciously wrong places. Earl sniggered at Carlos's expression.  
"Not yet. There will be... repercussions. A forfeit."  
Earl moved his hands from Cecil's waist to his hips, unsure of whether he was about to hold Cecil still or encourage him to grind backwards with more force.  
"A forfeit?"

Carlos stroked Cecil's face and kissed him. Cecil pushed Carlos back.  
"Not so fast, loverboy, the forfeit includes both of you pleasure-seeking hedonists."

Carlos sighed but smiled. Earl rolled his eyes.  
"Get it over with, Ceece. What do we have to do?"  
Cecil sat on the bed and tapped his chin.  
"Hmm. Jake and Rochelle are staying in town tonight, yes?"  
Carlos nodded.  
"Yes, Rochelle is meeting another expedition scientist to discuss..." Carlos's stomach gave a warning flutter, "...aah, science."  
Cecil barely noticed Carlos's hesitation.  
"And Roger is with Aby and Janice and... uh-huh."  
Earl smiled.  
"Yes, he's fascinated by Janice, and Ste--"  
"FINE! Dana and Maureen have gone to visit Maureen's family, and Josie has taken all the Erikas to clear out Vansten's old house."

Carlos smiled and sighed.  
"Yes! We have the manor to ourselves tonight"  
"Neat!" Cecil smirked. "To make amends I want you to gain a better understanding of how I feel about that portrait. My naked body is on display somewhere and anybody could be looking at it right now."  
Carlos shuddered. Earl raised his eyebrows and waited for Cecil to finish, although he had a creeping embarrassment that he knew what was in store.

Cecil looked from Earl to Carlos.  
"Your forfeit is that you two have to spend the rest of the day nude. You may not hide in your rooms, you must go about your normal daily activities. A-a-ah..."  
Cecil wagged a finger at Carlos who had opened his mouth to speak.  
"I know what you are likely to ask. Lab coats and aprons count as clothing and may not be worn. I will tell you when the forfeit is over."

Earl and Carlos stared at Cecil. Earl shook his head.  
"Ceece, you can not be serious! Parade around the house with no clothes on? That's... Cecil, that's..."  
"Embarrassing?" Cecil shrugged and stared Earl down. "Why, there's only us here and we've seen each other unclothed before."  
"This feels different, Ceece," Carlos protested. "When it's just us, in here or maybe the laboratory and the door is closed, it feels nice, private, just for us. What you are asking is... it's different. The element of choice is gone, anyone could look in a window or walk through a door and see."

Cecil nodded.  
"I want you both to experience that feeling of being stark naked and powerless to stop anyone from losing respect for you because they saw something not intended for their eyes. That is how I feel every second I think about whoever bought my portrait. I was nude for my lover, not for anyone else."

Earl and Carlos glanced at eah other and quickly looked away. Earl sighed and shook his head one more time. Cecil cocked an eyebrow at Carlos, face set and serious. Carlos unfastened his shirt and pulled it off over his head.  
"Fine, I'll do it."

While Carlos undressed and Cecil folded his clothes, Earl stood silent. Once Carlos stood naked, Cecil watched Earl's expression waver. Cecil rested his elbow on his knee and his face in his cupped palm.  
"Well now, Earl?"  
"Ugh, Cecil..."  
"Carlos can face it, why can't you?"  
"All right, dammit. Can I put my boots back on? The kitchen tiles are cold."

Earl soon stood next to Carlos, naked but for his boots. Cecil pulled his lips into a tight line.  
"Ready to get on with the day?"  
Carlos sighed, looked down at himself and turned to open the door.  
"Cecil, this is horrible." Carlos opened the door and looked back at Cecil, who still sat on the bed. "Please reconsider."

Cecil sighed at Carlos and Earl's miserable expressions.  
"Oh come back, get dressed."  
Carlos closed the door and pulled on his shirt. Earl sat beside Cecil and kicked his boots off.  
"Were you really going to make us go through with it?"

Cecil shrugged.  
"All I wanted was for you both to experience a little of what I feel. I think you did. There's no need to go any further." He stood up and smoothed down his tunic. "I'll leave you to get dressed. I will be busy in the laundry for the rest of the day. Carlos, do you have any plans to replace the Erikas?"  
Carlos's eyes widened.  
"Oh! Um, I'll see what I can do. I need to look at the balance sheet Jake drew up for me."

Cecil kissed each of them on the cheek and left. Earl turned to Carlos.  
"Is there a problem?"  
Carlos nodded.  
"I don't know how to tell Cecil, but I have to take on a more lucrative science position. I can't employ anyone else just yet, Jake showed that I can barely afford to continue to employ you and Ceece and Maureen and Dana along with the groundskeeper and stable hands. Rochelle and Jake are meeting someone on my behalf today to negotiate a contract for a job that will keep us all afloat."

"Oh! That's what you meant the other day in the pantry." Earl took Carlos's hand. "That's good, isn't it? You do science and get paid for it, we keep our jobs, and we all get to stay together?"  
Carlos sat beside Earl, clasped Earl's hand in both of his and stared at the floor.  
"There's the rub. I have to join an expedition ship in the autumn. I could be gone for anything between three and five months. I leave at the end of September."  
Carlos's shoulders heaved.  
"But Rochelle says the pay is great and I will have enough observations and data to keep me occupied for years after, writing it all up, and I can do that right here."

Earl used his free hand to tilt Carlos's chin up, and smiled at him.  
"You know I'll take care of Cecil while you're gone, and Cecil loves living here so he'll take care of the manor for you. Time will fly past, Carlos, you'll be back before you know it."  
Carlos blinked and forced out a smile. He wiped his eyes on his shirt tails. Earl held Carlos tight and kissed his cheek.  
"Still, I'll leave the business of telling Cecil up to you."


	27. Balls.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos has to go to a ball and Cecil has to teach him to dance. With Earl.  
> Maureen has to go too, her parents have arranged for her to meet an eligible bachelor.  
> Rochelle and Jake get to know each other better.

Carlos stared at the embossed paper bearing his name inscribed in careful calligraphy. He looked around the deserted laboratory.  
"Where could Cecil be? I am in need of his advice!"

After a minute, the hidden door creaked open and Cecil stepped into the room, frowning.  
"Carlos, didn't we talk about this? About how you can just pull the bell cord or yell? It's _really_ disconcerting to be wandering around the gardens and then... not. Anyway I got you these because you like them."

Cecil offered Carlos a basket of lilac flowers. Carlos laughed and hugged Cecil.  
"Plant reproductive organs! Uh..." Carlos kissed Cecil's cheek. "So romantic! I'm sorry abut the..." Carlos was too scientific to use the word _summoning_ "...thing, but I really need your advice. Look!"

Cecil read the invitation and his face made all sorts of shapes and sounds, culminating in a rising squeak barely decipherable as _"Josie's throwing a ball!"_

Carlos slumped to the sofa.  
"I know! How horrible. I have to go, and I have to look like I am enjoying myself. Cecil, I have to dance. With _people."_

Cecil ignored Carlos's tone of terrified horror and waved the invitation, shook his head in a display of non-understanding.  
"Of course you have to dance. That's the point. Show off to all the eligible young ladies and gentlemen what a dashing figure you cut. Break some hearts. Oh!" Cecil frowned. "You have to take a partner to this ball?"

Carlos sighed and nodded.  
"Thank the nebulous heavens Rochelle is here. Otherwise I would have to ask Miss Maureen. Cecil, would you come too, would you mind?"  
Cecil shrugged and grinned at Carlos. "Sweetheart, I wouldn't miss it. I will put on my old footman uniform and see that you are looked after. You _do_ know how to dance, don't you?"

Carlos bit his lower lip, held Cecil’s gaze and shook his head slowly.  
“No, I never had reason to learn. The ball is in three days, Ceece, ugh, what am I going to do? I can’t make an excuse, It’s Ortiz’s big event and she says there will be an important announcement. I have to go. Oh! What if Rochelle won’t be my partner? What if she decides to take Jake instead?”

“I don’t think Jake will want to go,” Cecil frowned and shook his head. “It’s in the house that used to be Vansten’s.”  
“Of course.” Carlos looked at Cecil with hopeful eyes. “Cecil, will you teach me to dance?”  
Cecil laughed. “What on Earth makes you think I know how to dance?”  
“Well,” Carlos smiled, “maybe the way you hardly ever stay still.”

The occupants of the manor met for lunch in the servants’ dining hall, as had become their habit since most of the serving staff had gone with Ortiz. Unused rooms had been closed off with dust-sheets to protect furniture and carefully ventilated to prevent decay. Carlos ate, complimented Earl on his skill as usual, and Earl smiled quietly, as usual. After soup bowls had been cleared away and dessert of fruit from the gardens was brought out, Cecil cleared his throat.

“Your attention, this afternoon in the drawing room I will be conducting lessons in dance, for anyone who might happen to have reason to learn. I will require music. Maureen? An accomplished young woman such as yours--”  
“--Fine!” Maureen rolled her eyes. “I’ll play the piano for you. It’s not like I had any other plans for my afternoon lessons with Roger.”  
Dana took Maureen’s hand.  
“I would like to come too after I’ve checked the rooms are tidy,” Dana looked pointedly at Cecil, who studied the ceiling for long enough that Dana looked away. “Roger can help me then join in too. It will be fun!”

Carlos looked at Earl. Earl swallowed a mouthful of raspberries and shook his head.  
“No way, I will be far too busy. Rochelle and Jake will want food when they get back from Jake’s appointment at the tailor’s and the scullery needs a good scrub.”

“Hmm,” Cecil sighed. “Carlos, you should have a new suit for the ball. Something fancy, your old one is ugly. Oh! And have you plans to hire any replacements for the Erikas?”  
Earl stood and took Cecil’s arm. Cecil had little choice but to follow Earl to the pantry.

The door closed softly, blocking out the sounds of Carlos and Dana stacking dishes. Earl stroked Cecil’s face and kissed his cheek.  
“Ceece, can you maybe not mention anything to Carlos that involves expense? I...” Earl considered the relative merits of telling the whole truth compared with complete lies. “I think it’s a sensitive issue at the moment. You must have noticed that half the house is closed up and meals have got less extravagant over the past few weeks.”

Cecil covered his cheeks with his hands.  
“Oh no! Have I offended Carlos? Was it rude of me to say that about his suit? Have I upset him?”

Earl hugged Cecil. “I’m sure you have not upset Carlos, although the comment about his ugly suit was a bit rude. Perhaps you sh--”  
“--Oh no!” Cecil covered his mouth and stared at Earl in alarm. “What if Carlos loses the manor! Would he have to leave us? I can’t… Earl, I can’t go back to travelling, I can’t… Ugh I’d have to find another position and I’d hate it. I’d be folding someone’s clothes or helping them do whatever other people do and I’d be resenting every second that they were not my Carlos!”

Earl bit his lip to prevent himself from giggling at Cecil’s panic. He hugged Cecil close and combed fingers through Cecil’s hair.  
“Come on now, Ceece, it’ll be fine. I’m sure Carlos has a plan. He’s a clever man.”  
“Yes,” Cecil brightened immediately. “He is a _scientist.”_

When Earl and Cecil emerged from the pantry, Carlos and Maureen were already upstairs pushing furniture back against the walls and rolling up the rug. Dana insisted on sweeping the dust from the varnished parquet floor as her first duty of the afternoon, then called Roger to help her patrol the rooms, looking for discarded clothing, stray crockery and monsters

Maureen sat on the piano stool and played some scales and arpeggios. Once Cecil arrived, grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of an afternoon in Carlos's arms made acceptable because it was _dancing,_ Maureen stilled her hands and asked, "what do you want me to play?"

Cecil halted, hand halfway out to Carlos.  
"Oh, um, you know although I have often danced, I have never learned the names of the dances. Perhaps you could... um... help out?"  
Maureen glared.  
"You mean perhaps I can teach you so that you can teach Carlos?"  
"Yes! Exactly!" Cecil grinned and winked at Maureen. "Helping out."

Maureen played a short, piece on the piano, calling over her shoulder, _two-step, look lively!_  
Cecil looked at Maureen in horror.  
"We can't dance to that! I want to teach Carlos that new dance, the one the Old master hated because it was... it was... well you can't do it at arm's length. It goes _ba-dum-dum ba-dum-dum, ba-dum-dum ba-dum-dum._ You must know it?"  
Maureen played a low note followed by two simple chords in a major key, repeated. Cecil beamed. "You DO know it!"  
Maureen turned back to sit at the piano properly.  
"It's called a waltz, Cecil, and it's not all that new."

Maureen tried out different keys and tempos until she found one she liked, rolled her shoulders and improvised a waltz based on a melody she had learned as a child. Carlos laughed and clapped and said it was delightful. Cecil smiled and held his hand out to Carlos.  
"Sir Carlos, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"

Carlos bowed in return and took Cecil's hand. Cecil was a patient teacher. He took Carlos's hands and put one on his waist, stepping back enough that Carlos could look down and see what his feet were doing. Cecil demonstrated, pulling Carlos with him.

"See? forward, side, together, back, side, together."  
Cecil steered Carlos, reminding him which foot to start on with a nudge.  
"Oh," Carlos smiled. "I can do this. I'm making a square with my feet. I never thought dancing would be so scientific!"  
Cecil laughed.  
"Yes! Now we should try with you holding me properly, not staring at your feet."

That proved more difficult for Carlos, who seemed to have little idea of where his extremities were at any given second. Rochelle and Jake returned and paused outside the drawing room. Rochelle peered in then faced Jake with her hand over her mouth.

"Carlos is learning to dance!"  
Jake smiled when the piano music started up again. He held out his left hand and bowed.  
"Miss Rochelle, will you dance?"  
Rochelle grinned and took Jake's hand. They waltzed in the hallway, a sedate pace and a chaste hand-width apart, until Maureen stopped playing and demanded a rest. Jake smiled at Rochelle's dark eyes, and Rochelle leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

Rochelle broke away and headed for the stairs, her right hand still clasping Jake's left. Jake followed. They paused outside Jake's room. Rochelle let go Jake's hand and stroked his jaw.  
"You like to dance?"  
"Yes," replied Jake. "I never used to, my previous employer made me learn so that he could practise."  
"Huh." Rochelle frowned. "Do you see me as your employer, Jake?"  
Jake echoed Rochelle's matter-of-fact tone.  
"You are my employer, Rochelle."

Rochelle nodded.  
"Oh. Of course."  
She headed for her own room door. As her hand reached it, Jake caught up. He touched Rochelle's arm to attract her attention and stood back again. Rochelle turned.  
"What is it, Jake?"  
Jake flushed hot, light-headed and dry-mouthed.  
"I admire and respect you a great deal and I have no wish to do anything that would upset our... our friendship or my proposed employment. I can be your employee and your friend, I trust you, you will never ask more from me than I can give. I offer you that same courtesy. Right now, if you are amenable to the idea, I would like to, um..."

Jake stopped. Rochelle smiled.  
"Go on?"  
"I would, um, like to..." Jake searched for words that wouldn't sound embarrassingly forward, but gave up. He closed his eyes. "I would like to hold you close."

Rochelle opened her room door and went inside. After a few seconds she turned and cocked an eyebrow at Jake.  
"Are you coming in or not?"

Downstairs in the drawing room, Maureen played one more sedate waltz. Carlos closed his eyes and danced with Cecil. Dana held Roger's hands, let him stand on her feet and walked him through the steps while he giggled. Earl watched from the doorway. Carlos danced with studious concentration. He frowned when Maureen increased the tempo. Cecil giggled and stopped.  
“Oh Carlos, you are doing so well! Look, you can waltz!  
Carlos smiled, stepped back and kissed Cecil’s hand.  
“Will all the dances be like this? I have never attended a ball before.”  
“No,” replied Cecil, “there are other dances but that is the fashionable one at the moment. You’ve got the basics right, time to learn some fancy moves. Um, Earl, will you partner Carlos so that I can watch and add in some turns and whatnot?”

Earl looked horrified, but Roger’s cheer of _papas all dancing!_ changed his mind. He aimed a resigned smile at Carlos and held out his hands. Carlos and Earl arranged themselves stiffly into position, arms straight, Carlos’s hand on Earl’s waist, Earl’s hand on Carlos’s shoulder, clasped hands out to the side. Cecil laughed. Maureen turned and giggled and even Dana had to hide a smile.

Carlos looked from face to grinning face.  
“What, have I got it wrong already? The music hasn’t even started and I made a mistake! Ugh I’ll never learn this.”  
“No no no, Carlos, it’s scientifically accurate,” Carlos smiled at the perceived praise from Cecil, “but your stance is very…. um… here, let me…”  
Cecil walked around the pair, bending elbows and closing the gulf between them. By the time he had completed three circuits, Carlos and Earl stood as if they were frozen in the second before an embrace. Cecil looked very pleased with himself indeed.

“Perfect! Maureen?” Cecil grinned at Maureen, who shook her head and played a slow three beats to the bar while Cecil counted _ONE two three ONE two three_ and the dancers tripped over each other’s feet. Cecil made them keep going with effusive praise while Roger sat on the floor and shook with laughter. Eventually, Carlos and Earl found their rhythm and settled into a slow waltz. Carlos caught Earl’s eye and Earl felt heat rise up his cheeks. Carlos smiled at the pink tinge to Earl’s face and held him closer, the hand at the side of Earl’s waist slid around to his back, hips bumping. Earl rested his head on Carlos’s shoulder. Cecil stared with open mouth, then laughed.

“I think you’ve got it! Right, I want to show you some fancy moves. Thank you, Miss Maureen. Roger? Would you like to help Dana with… something?”  
Dana sniggered and took Maureen’s arm and Roger’s hand to lead them out of the room. Once the door closed, Carlos and Earl looked at Cecil. Earl spoke first.  
“Fancy moves?”  
“Yes,” Cecil grinned. “I know a few fancy moves.”  
“I bet you do.” Earl laughed. “Carlos, do you know what fancy moves Cecil might have in mind?”  
“No,” Carlos shook his head, “but I have a few ideas of my own. Would you like to see?”

Jake followed Rochelle into her room and stood, nerves gnawing at his gut and making a jumble of words tumble from his mouth. Rochelle removed her outer jacket and draped it over a chair. Embarrassed, Jake fell into silence, but Rochelle smiled at him.  
“Would you care to dance again, Jake?”

Jake stepped forward and put his hand on Rochelle’s waist. Rochelle placed her hand on Jake’s shoulder, leaned against him and spoke in a quiet, serious voice.  
“If we are to be companions on an expedition, we will have few secrets from one another. If there is anything we need to know, now is better than later.”  
Jake nodded.  
“Jake, may I be blunt without causing offence?”  
Jake murmured his assent.  
“We will never be lovers, in the sense that our world understands that word. I feel for you a deep affection. I want to be close to you, but without the madness of desire.”

Jake’s smile lit his face.  
“For too long I was required to feign something I have never felt. Rochelle, I suffer no such madness. Others have speculated that I have simply not met the right person yet, but I think… well.” Jake gave a half-laugh. “Perhaps the right person is someone who is comfortable with not… um… not…”  
Rochelle snorted.  
“Fucking?”  
Jake’s hand flew to his mouth to stifle his laughter. Rochelle grinned, closed her eyes and leaned her head against Jake’s shoulder.  
“Perhaps, since we will be spending so much time together at sea, we should get used to one another’s habits. Jake, my dear, do you snore?”

Cecil grinned.  
“All in good time. Dancing is a serious matter! Are you ready? You will have to make do with imaginary music but I can tap out the beat for you.”  
Cecil counted out the beat and directed Carlos in how to perform turns and how to steer Earl, if the need should arise, to move to a less busy part of the dance floor. Carlos held Earl close, hips touching, and Earl’s arm reached around Carlos’s neck. Eventually they stopped moving and Cecil watched Carlos and Earl kiss.

“Mmhmmhmm, I see why this dance has been talked about almost as much as it has been performed. Imagine dancing in front of everyone with your partner held so close instead of at arm’s length!”  
Cecil waggled his eyebrows at Carlos and Earl. Earl felt Carlos shift back a little to accommodate the growing stiffness in his underwear.  
“Uh, Cecil?” Earl’s voice sounded a little strained. “Carlos? Do you want to continue dance practice upstairs?”

Carlos held Earl tight again and kissed him, one hand behind Earl’s waist and the other in his hair. Earl reached both arms around Carlos’s neck and allowed Carlos to hold him slightly off balance, but secure. Cecil sniggered.  
“You better not do that on the dance floor, Carlos!”

Earl felt Carlos smile against his lips. Carlos pulled Earl upright once more and led him out of the room, across the hall, upstairs and into his bedroom. Cecil followed. With the door safely closed Carlos and Earl undressed each other, giggling when their efforts hindered one another. Cecil folded and stacked and watched.

Earl and Carlos eventually stood naked, facing each other. Carlos held out his hand.  
"Earl, will you dance?"  
Earl sniggered.  
"Oh you're serious, are you?"  
He took Carlos's left hand in his right and shuffled his feet into position. Carlos grinned and slipped his hand around the back of Earl's waist then down to his backside. Earl moved his hands to cup Carlos's face and kissed him.

Cecil lounged on the bed, watching as Carlos stroked Earl's backside and pulled him closer with firm hands. Cecil wondered if he should move to get a better view, attempt to join in or perhaps slip away for a while. He stood up, adjusted his clothing and walked towards the door.

"Mmm, Ceece?"  
Earl bit his lip and grinned as Carlos ground against him slowly.  
"Ceece, you  _oooohnicemmhmm_  going somewhere? _ohfuckharderCarlos!_  Aaah, stay, c'mere."  
Cecil turned and walked back towards Earl and Carlos.

 

A few doors down the passageway, Rochelle removed her heavy skirts and reclined in chemise and drawers. Jake frowned and perched on the chair by Rochelle’s dressing table. He looked at the surface; where Marcus’s had been crowded with oils and creams and perfumes, Rochelle’s was sparse. He caught the gaze of Rochelle’s reflection in the mirror.  
“Have I made you uncomfortable? I do not intend to take any more clothing off. Those garments are ridiculous, I feel my movement restricted by them. Have you seen the latest fashion in crinolines? Ugh. If I was here with just Carlos I would wear breeches and a shirt like he does.”

Jake turned and smiled at Rochelle.  
“You do not need to dress up on my account, and I am confident that none of the occupants of the manor would look twice if you chose comfort over decorum. Perhaps Maureen would look at you with envy for your confidence.”

Rochelle grinned. Jake removed his outer shirt and his trousers and sat on the edge of Rochelle’s bed in his undershirt and leggings. Rochelle shifted over and patted the bedspread beside her.  
“Sit here and tell me about how you came to be so keen to sign up to be my assistant.”  
Jake lay back and closed his eyes.  
“Maybe I will tell you some day if I must, but I do not want to think about my old life. Not today.”  
Rochelle thought of what little she knew from Carlos’s cryptic hints and took Jake’s hand.  
_Perhaps,_ she thought, _some things are as well to be forgotten._

Dinner was late. The manor occupants ate together, then Earl and Cecil took Roger to help clear up, Dana asked Jake to check over the weekly accounts and Maureen wandered into the herb garden in search of fresh mint for tea. Rochelle looked at Carlos, one eyebrow raised and lips pulled straight. "I can tell when you want to say something and are uncertain about it. Out with it, Carlos!”  
Carlos sighed and smiled.  
“Rochelle, I have been invited to a ball. Would you please do me the hono--”  
“No, please ask someone else.”  
“But Rochelle! I will have to ask--”

“--Carlos?”  
Maureen appeared at the door.  
Startled, Carlos looked round. Maureen was frowning at him. Carlos forced a smile.  
“Maureen! Um…”  
“I have also been invited. I can’t simply not go, my parents will not leave me alone if I refuse. Dana said she may not accompany me for some idiotic reason. I would…” Maureen rolled her eyes and sighed. “Carlos, will you chaperon me to the stupid ball?”

Carlos could not refuse.

On the day of the ball, Cecil fussed over Carlos, making sure his evening wear was as presentable as it could be, before squeezing himself into his footman uniform of fitted tailcoat, knee-length yellow pantaloons and bright emerald tights with heeled, polished, silver-buckled shoes. Carlos stared, Maureen laughed, Earl was speechless. Dana found a voice first.  
“Cecil! You look just like you did back when you really were a footman!” She smiled. “Very… distinctive. And my sweet Maureen! Look at you!”

Maureen’s face glowered above a sky-blue bodice atop a skirt as wide as the doorway. The deep vee front and back of the bodice revealed more flesh than Maureen necessarily approved of and the lace edging made red marks on her skin. Long gloves, Rochelle’s idea, prevented Maureen from scratching. The tiny waistband of the skirt tied in a large bow at Maureen’s back and the huge fabric bell rustled when she moved. Maureen lifted her skirt and kicked Roger out from under it. He giggled and dived behind Earl.

“I feel gift-wrapped, Dana,” Maureen complained, “and I can barely breathe. This is ridiculous.”  
Dana kissed Maureen once on each cheek.  
“You look beautiful. Go to the ball, stay long enough to keep your father happy, then come home and I will help you out of your cage. At least any gentleman who invites you to dance will have to remain at arm's length.”

Carlos offered Maureen his hand, Cecil held the door and they drove off in the Manor carriage after a slight delay caused by working out how to get Maureen’s crinoline into and out of the carriage without unexpected exposure of Maureen’s undergarments.

Several hours later, Dana heard the carriage arrive again, some muffled curse words and a crunch on the gravel. She held the front door wide and Maureen entered first, followed by Carlos then Cecil, who locked the door. Maureen looked around the hallway, pulled off her gloves, unfastened her bow, turned her back on Dana and said, “please, now.”

Dana stood bent forward uncomfortably over the back of Maureen’s ballgown. After a minute of pulling at fabric and unhooking fasteners, Maureen sighed, pushed down with both hands and stepped out of her skirts. Dana unlaced Maureen’s corset and pried the edges apart. Maureen took several deep breaths then set off upstairs. Dana gathered up the voluminous skirts and followed Maureen. Carlos waited long enough for Maureen to get to the privacy of her rooms, took Cecil’s hand and led him upstairs.

Carlos and Cecil helped each other out of their formal garments. Carlos said he was tired, he had a lot on his mind and wanted to sleep. Cecil did not want to sleep, he also had much to think about but far preferred to do his thinking aloud. Cecil saw Carlos settled, kissed him goodnight and, clad in his underwear with his clothes clutched to his front, snuck down the passageway to Earl’s room.

Dana hung Maureen’s clothes carefully and held her around the waist.  
“Was it awful? Was Carlos an effective chaperon?”  
Maureen smiled.  
“Yes, and yes. You-know-who was there, Dana, but he did not get to touch me. He talked at me about what a great fortune he had and how he wanted _a suitable young wife, a gentlewoman who would appreciate his merits,_ ugh, but Carlos took his job seriously. I swear Carlos did not leave me cornered by him for more than two minutes. Ha! Carlos would come up to us, take my arm, apologise for stealing me away and introduce me to some random guest and we would stand arm’s width apart and complain about our stupid frocks until he tracked me down again.”

Dana frowned.  
“Carlos was introducing you to _women?”_  
Maureen flashed a grin.  
“Yes, he was the perfect chaperon, you-know-who even commented on it. I did not have more than a couple of minutes at a time of unwelcome male company all evening.”  
Dana’s frown gave away her discomfort. Maureen touched Dana’s cheek.  
“All the time I was making polite conversation with them, I was thinking about how much I wanted to be at home with you.”  
Maureen slipped her arms around Dana’s neck and kissed her once, held her tight and rested her cheek on Dana’s shoulder. Maureen sighed and closed her eyes.  
“We could just run away, couldn’t we be explorers too?’

Cecil undressed and got into bed bedide Earl. Earl shifted over and complained as he half-woke.  
“Oh are you still awake? Neat!” Cecil was buzzing. “I have so much to tell you! Earl… Earl?”  
Cecil kissed then bit Earl’s ear. Earl groaned and pushed him off.  
“Cecil, I swear if this is not an emergency you’re getting salad and pickles for every meal tomorrow.”  
Earl rubbed his face, yawned and shuffled higher up the bed, offering Cecil a hug and a _c’mere_. Cecil settled with his head on Earl’s shoulder and his arm across Earl’s chest.  
“Mmm. I hoped we’d get back to find you dozing in Carlos’s bed, but he said he wants to sleep.”  
Earl rolled his eyes.  
“Really, wanting to sleep! Imagine that.”  
“I know!” Cecil lifted his head to look at Earl’s face. “When there is so much to talk about!”  
Earl gave in and sat up.  
“Cecil, why don't you tell me about the ball?”

Cecil arranged the pillows and he and Earl reclined back. Cecil grinned.  
“I have never seen anything so lavish in my life. I’m glad I went with the emerald tights, many of the footmen were quite plain. Except one who was in a lovely shade of deep violet. I have no idea who his master was. Do you know?”  
“Ceece,” Earl wasn’t in the mood. “How could I possibly know that?”  
“Huh. Maybe I won’t tell you any more. You'll miss out if you’re going to be mister grumpy-pants.”  
Earl sniggered.  
“I’m not wearing any pants.”  
Cecil’s hand slipped up Earl’s thigh under the covers and rested at the top of his leg.  
“Mmhmm, I noticed.”

“So we go there and Maureen and Carlos were announced. I followed them in and just stopped and stared at the ballroom. That house… remember it was so dark and dingy? I wished Jake could have seen it, it is like a different place, all gilt and silver and white paint. It _sparkled._ The room seemed to go up and up to the sky. Josie and the Erikas have done a magnificent job. Josie was there all dressed up in finery. She said they are gradually converting the house into an opera house! Imagine that! The ballroom will become the auditorium and she wanted everyone to see the house before it is closed up for the rest of the transformation.”

Earl frowned and shook Cecil’s shoulder.  
“What’s an opera?”  
Cecil grinned.  
“I have no idea! I have seen posters advertising them on my travels, but I haven’t the least idea what they are about. But that’s not the thing I want to talk about.”  
Earl suppressed a groan by turning it into a yawn and apologising for being tired. Cecil woke him up with a carefully planned but seemingly accidental shift of his hand. Earl giggled.  
“I mean it Ceece, behave or you’re getting pickled beets for breakfast.”

Cecil laughed and moved his hand back.  
“Carlos was _dazzling_. I mean, his dancing was barely acceptable but,” Cecil shrugged, “what can you do with only a couple of days training, huh?”  
Earl sniggered, leaned over and murmured in Cecil’s ear, “I was perfectly satisfied with our Carlos’s dancing skills.”  
Cecil twitched his hand again and laughed.  
“Earl! This is serious!”

“Miss Maureen had an admirer. The footman with the nice tights was hovering around but it wasn't him. Oh you will _never_ guess who it was!”  
“Ceece,” Earl tried to look stern. “Beets.”  
“Suit yourself. Anyway Carlos was a good chaperon and kept Maureen from having to spend time alone with the coarse old bore. Josie was lovely, she sends her best wishes and asked after Roger. Vansten was there in a uniform, collecting glasses, but he ignored me when I said hello. And there was a scientist of some kind, at least Carlos said he was a scientist, someone who used chemicals to trap light and shade. Carlos and Maureen sat for a portrait, the artist called it a _Daguerreotype._ Apparently they are All. The. Rage. Carlos was completely taken with the process! He asked the artist with the device _so_ many questions and how much it would cost to have him come to the manor and take picture portraits of us all. I didn’t hear the cost, Maureen helped Carlos haggle. But he’s coming to the manor in two days’ time! So, baths for everyone and best clothes laundered and pressed tomorrow, right?”

Earl laughed.  
“Why on Earth does Carlos want pictures? He can… oh… he can, um, call for us and look. Any time at all.”  
Earl hoped Cecil could not see his expression. Cecil laughed and slapped Earl’s leg playfully.  
“It will be exciting to have another scientist at the manor!”

Earl yawned. Cecil stroked Earl’s leg from thigh to knee and rested his head against Earl’s shoulder.  
“That’s not the best part. Earl, honey?”  
“Ugh there’s more?”  
“Earl! This is big! Carlos gave me something, a gift. I want to show you. Get up and come to the window, there’s probably enough moonlight to see.”  
Earl groaned but Cecil murmured in his ear, _make it worth your while?_

Over by the window, Cecil picked up a round, silver object from the dressing table and handed it to Earl. Earl frowned, turning it over and over in his hand.  
“Cecil, Carlos gave you his pocket-watch?”  
Cecil nodded, tracing its circumference with one finger.  
“He says it keeps better time than any of the clocks at the manor. You know how exasperated he gets when the clocks all say different times. He said he wants me to have it, to keep it safe for him.”

Earl put his arms around Cecil, held him tight and kissed his forehead.  
“That’s sweet of him. Come back to bed, Ceece. Let me hold you tonight.”  
“Mmhmm, now for my end of the bargain.” Cecil sniggered. “I made you get up and come over here so I’ll make you co--”  
“Ceece,” Earl rubbed Cecil’s back. “Not tonight, my love. I just want to sleep with you near and wake up with you.”  
“Huh,” Cecil let Earl pick him up and carry him back to bed. “You must be tired. I will try not to keep you awake but I am so excited right now!”  
Earl could not help smiling at Cecil’s exuberance. He helped Cecil snuggle down and kissed his cheek.  
“Good night, sweetheart.”  
“Goodnight, Earl. Oh I can’t help thinking about how lucky we are to have Carlos!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a sex scene but I deleted it because I didn't like something it implied about Cecil's past. So that's gone.


	28. Making memories

The morning dawned bright with promise of a late, warm day ahead, an offering before shining autumn golds put the weakening summer sun to shame. 

Carlos lay in bed and smiled, Cecil on his left, still and quiet, Earl beyond him and just stirring. Earl yawned and blinked, looked at Cecil and kissed his cheek. He smiled at Carlos and slipped out of bed, dressed and left quietly. Carlos snuggled closer to Cecil and closed his eyes. There was no need to move yet and Carlos planned to make the most of his remaining lazy mornings.

The clink of cups on saucers woke Carlos some time later. Cecil sat on the edge of the bed wearing his favourite tunic and his coral beads. Carlos sat up and reached for coffee. Cecil moved the cup away and held Carlos's hand. He smiled and pointed to his cheek. Carlos grinned, leaned forward and kissed the spot indicated. Cecil pointed to his lips and Carlos held Cecil’s head and kissed him there too. Cecil sniggered, waggled an eyebrow and pointed somewhere else. Carlos laughed and pushed Cecil over, held him down and made him giggle and squirm.

Carlos gulped cool coffee while Cecil pottered, righting his clothing and choosing a smart outfit for Carlos to wear. Carlos watched as Cecil chose matching trousers and jacket, the deep red velvet waistcoat that Cecil could hardly refrain from touching, a soft cream shirt rather than starched white, and a tie.

Cecil saw Carlos watching him and smiled.  
"What are your _scientific_ observations, Sir Carlos?"  
Carlos put on a serious expression.  
"I observe that my valet, Palmer, cares for me very well. With repeated observations over the past year I conclude that my valet loves me and I love him."  
Cecil grinned, hung Carlos's outfit on the wardrobe door, walked over and kissed him.  
"Hmm." Carlos stroked his chin. "Further data suggests that my conclusion is correct."

Cecil pulled Carlos by the hand.  
"Come on, get up. He's coming at two and it is almost ten."  
"Ceece, sweetheart, that's hours away!"  
"I know, but I want you to look your best. There's a bath, I will wash your hair and you can let it dry outdoors so that it does that _thing,"_ Cecil gestured with his hands around his head. "And you need a shave and then Earl and Roger will want the bath too. Oh, you received a card this morning, Hiram McDaniels wants to visit on a personal matter, He'll be here at noon. Lunchtime, I expect. Earl says he's making a pickle salad."

Carlos laughed and shook his head.  
"What can Hiram possibly want from me except to say _I told you so_ on the matter of fina... Oh whatever. Fine. I wonder why he did not mention it at Josie's ball?"  
Cecil stared at Carlos for a moment.  
"Carlos, you did notice that Maureen..."  
Carlos looked blank. He shrugged and Cecil rolled his eyes.  
"I noticed Maureen looking bored so I took her to meet people in case she found one of them interesting. I just took her up to other ladies who appeared lonely and said, _excuse me miss, may I introduce Miss Maureen?_ and walked away.

Cecil looked Carlos up and down when he got out of bed then offered him a hand.  
"Bath and shave."  
"But your nice tunic will get wet!" Carlos protested.  
Cecil flashed a grin.  
"Not if I take it off."

After bathing, Cecil helped Carlos to dress before heading down to the kitchens to check that Earl knew there would likely be guests for lunch. As he passed the table in the hall, Cecil noticed another folded and sealed notecard on the silver tray reserved for messages. He picked it up and turned to go back upstairs to give it to Carlos but halted with a frown when he read the name on the outside. It was addressed to him. He broke the plain wax seal and opened it.

_Tell no one of this or your painting goes on display at the Town Hall complete with your name and position. McDaniels and his intended should be separated. Keep him from her. I will know if you tell or if you fail to act._

There was no signature. Cecil read the note over and over but the words did not change. Heart thumping in his ribcage, he ran up to tell Carlos then reversed his decision and ran halfway down to the kitchens to tell Earl. Dizzy and suddenly queasy, Cecil stopped on the narrow wooden back staircase and sat down. 

"That yourself, Cecil?"  
Earl's voice jolted Cecil. He stuffed the card into a pocket and hauled himself upright. Cecil took a couple of steady breaths and continued downstairs. He found a smile for Earl.  
"Jeez you look terrible. Something happened? You argued with Carlos, is that it?" Earl held an arm out. "C'mere."

Cecil accepted the hug, burrowing his face into Earl's shoulder.   
"Not Carlos, I got... nothing. It's nothing."  
Cecil held on to Earl, and Earl stroked his back.  
"You can tell me what's bothering you, you know. If you want."   
Cecil smiled against Earl's neck and kissed him.  
"It really is nothing. You know McDaniels is coming? Bet he wants lunch. Are you going to make pickle salad like you said?"  
Earl laughed.  
"I was joking, I can't embarrass Carlos by feeding his guest pickled beetroot and cucumbers. I'll make soufflé."  
Cecil brightened up as a plan arrived in his head. He picked up the pickle jar.  
"Lovely! I will tell Carlos it's a formal lunch. I'll set the table and serve."

Hiram McDaniels arrived at noon and boasted at Carlos until ten past, at which time Cecil announced that lunch was served. By seventeen minutes past, McDaniels was cursing angrily at Cecil for his clumsiness and dabbing at the spreading, purple beetroot stain from the spill in his lap. McDaniels huffed that he was in no fit state to enjoy female company, and left under a thundercloud of bad grace. 

At twelve thirty, Maureen and Dana arrived with Roger. Maureen noticed the set table and the near-cold soufflé.  
"Oh! Carlos, are we late? I thought lunch was half past twelve, not noon."   
Cecil smiled.  
"I do apologise, the mistake was mine."

The daguerreotype artist arrived on time with a cart pulled by a small pony. Carlos let out an excited whoop when he saw the man arrive and raced to open the front door wide as if the whole cart was to be admitted to the hallway. Roger shot out too and went to talk to the horse. The man shook Carlos’s hand.  
“Good morning, Sir Carlos. You remember me? Dave the Daguerreotype? I brought everything I need to set up a studio. If you show me, I can start right away.”  
Carlos beamed at him and nodded a welcome, then yelled back into the house for assistance in transferring the contents of the pony-cart into his laboratory. Cecil obliged with a grumble that Carlos smoothed away by pulling him into a corner and kissing him as soon as Dave was occupied with his boxes of equipment and bottles of chemicals. 

"I hope you don't mind... Oh!" Dave faltered and took several steps back into the room as Carlos and Cecil sprang apart. Carlos murmured to Cecil to go downstairs and ask Earl to prepare a tray in case their guest was hungry then followed Dave back into the laboratory.   
"Please excuse--" Carlos began.  
"None of my business!" Dave almost squeaked. "I just wanted to say I have a more modern process than those daguerreotypes you saw at The Ortiz Ball. Um, they are called tintypes despite not being made of tin. The process is much faster and works better under a range of lighting conditions. I can prepare plates in advance and develop them in a matter of minutes, and they are robust enough not to need encasing in glass. By daguerreotype standards, the process is almost instant and the exposure time is a far kinder. Would you like a demonstration, so that you can plan your use of my time?"

Carlos would. He watched Dave set up his camera and arrange a set of bottles beside a wooden chest.   
"What would you like me to capture?"  
The laboratory door creaked open and Earl came in with a tray.  
"Sir Carlos? Palmer asked me to bring tea and sandwiches."  
"Oh! Yes. Um, I wonder where Palmer could be?" Earl suppressed a giggle as a stifled curse came from the hidden door. Cecil pushed the door open and scowled at Carlos.   
"Ugh you could have... Oh! I beg your pardon, Sir Carlos. How may I be of assistance?"

Carlos grinned.  
"Dave has offered a demonstration of his skill. I would like a portrait of both of you. Um, by the fireplace?"  
"A classic, gentlemanly pose," Dave agreed. "Gives the subject something to use as support for longer exposure times."  
Cecil looked at Dave's camera with alarm and combed his fingers through his hair. Earl laughed.  
"Palmer, you look fine. Get off me!"  
Earl ducked as Cecil tried to smooth out his hair too. Dave laughed.   
"Sir Carlos, will you join your... companions? Servants?"

Earl glared at Dave.  
"I am Harlan, Sir Carlos's chef. Palmer here is Sir Carlos's valet."   
Dave smiled and nodded.  
"Very well. A portrait of Sir Carlos's chef and his valet for posterity. I can take one of Sir Carlos and the lady of the house in a similar pose later. Now, Harlan, on the left? Palmer, just here if you please."

Earl and Cecil allowed Dave to position them side by side, Harlan's hand on Palmer's shoulder, Palmer's hands clasped in front of him. Carlos shook his head.  
"That does not look right. Dave, Palmer and Harlan are friends, not simply people who happen to share an employer." Carlos ignored the snigger from Earl. "They should look like friends in their portrait."  
Dave tightened his mouth.  
"What pose would you suggest, in that case, Sir Carlos?"  
If Carlos noticed the annoyance in Dave's voice, he failed to comment on it.  
"Well, they stand there together sometimes reading by lamplight if there is anything interesting in the _Journal._ Hmm..." Carlos stroked his chin. He found last week's newspaper and handed it to Cecil. "Pretend you are both interested in the article on _Effective Hatchet Maintenance._ Stand like you always do when you are reading to each other."

Cecil frowned and took the folded paper Carlos offered. He read out the first two sentences and smiled, Earl was by his shoulder, arm around him, pointing at the page and laughing at some of the unfamiliar words as Cecil made him sound them out.

"Hold! Three... Two... One... Done!" Dave laughed and replaced the lens cap of his camera. "Just a little work with some potassium cyanide vapour and I will have a portrait you can treasure, Sir Carlos. Care to watch?"

Carlos did. He stayed with Dave to see how his process worked, listening to explanations and asking questions while Dave fiddled under black cloth. Cecil and Earl excused themselves in the name of untended duties and slipped out. Dave chatted while he waited for the finished plate to dry.  
"So, Sir Carlos, is your good lady dressing in finery for your portraits?"

Dave's chatter was cut off by the sound of people in the hall. Carlos made for the door and called out.  
"Rochelle? Jake? Come see this!"  
Rochelle followed Carlos back into the room. Jake followed Rochelle. Dave's face lit up.  
"Is this your good Lady, Sir Carlos?" He turned to offer Rochelle a hand and a stiff little bow. "I am honoured to make y--"  
Rochelle burst out laughing and Jake grinned.   
"Oh dear no," Rochelle wiped her eyes. "I am married, but not to Sir Carlos."  
Carlos's eyes widened.  
"Married! You? When?"  
Rochelle took Jake's hand.  
"This morning. We discussed it soon after we met, saw Magistrate Winchell last week, agreed that we had special circumstances allowing us to skip the reading of banns and had a ceremony witnessed by two, um, people named Erika who just happened to be there. We did not want to make a fuss."  
Carlos grinned.  
"When my closest scientific colleague gets married to someone I have grown also to consider a friend, I will make a fuss. EARL! CECIL! Oh, where are they?"  
Earl and Cecil both staggered out from behind the hidden door. Cecil merely rolled his eyes. Earl gaped and muttered, _what the Hell..._ Carlos laughed and waved his arms.  
"We have a wedding to celebrate! Jake and Rochelle!"

Earl shook hands and congratulated Jake and Rochelle. Cecil hung back for a moment, looking skeptical but Carlos pulled him forward to join the celebration and Cecil relented, hugging Jake and shaking hands with Rochelle. Carlos hugged everyone, including a very surprised photographer. Dave saw his opportunity to extend his profit from the afternoon.  
“If the happy couple are agreeable, an excellent wedding present would be a set of six tintypes as a memento of their wedding day. Sir Carlos?”  
Carlos nodded with enthusiasm. Rochelle smiled at Jake and raised an eyebrow. Jake laughed.  
“Why not! Thank you, Carlos.”

Dave took over, ushering Rochelle and Jake out to change into their finest clothing despite their protests. He packed up his camera and asked where the prettiest location would be in the grounds. Carlos thought for a moment, nodded, picked up Dave’s case of spare plates and led him out. Earl turned to face Cecil.  
“You have to explain that, Ceece. One minute we’re getting cozy in the pantry and the next we’re in the passage behind Carlos’s laboratory. What the fuck just happened?”  
“Wish I knew,” Cecil shrugged, “I asked Carlos not to call for me like that. It is very disconcerting, although it has pulled me out of trouble a couple of times. Perhaps the Manor knows when I need to be brought home.” Cecil smiled and spoke low in Earl’s ear, making him shiver. “Back to the pantry?”  
Earl held Cecil tight.  
“Mmm yes, but I have to check what we’ve got in there. I should make something special for dinner.” Earl caught Cecil’s disappointed expression. “But I think I can spare some time for us if I can explain to Roger the loss of the Chook of Buckingham and Quacktagnan and make a two-bird roast with some sausage and breadcrumb stuffing. Come on.”  
Earl took Cecil’s hand and led him back to the pantry by a more conventional route.

Outside, Carlos helped Dave set up his camera in the garden and soon Jake and Rochelle arrived wearing their travelling clothes. Dave frowned.  
“Oh, it is usual for the bride to wear a dr--”  
“Not this bride,” Rochelle interrupted. “We are to travel in the morning and our attire, we decided,” Jake nodded his agreement, “should reflect our attachment.”  
Carlos frowned.   
“What do you mean?”  
Jake attempted an explanation.  
“Rochelle and I are together because we are to be explorers and the ship’s captain would not accept an unmarried lady on board. I have faith that I will grow to love Rochelle more, perhaps not in the way expected of a husband, but…”  
Jake reddened and looked at his wife. Fortunately she seemed amused.  
“Quite, Jake my dear.” Rochelle reached for Jake’s hand. “A marriage of… convenience? Mutual affection and regard? Can we skip the fires of lust and settle in to the gentle warmth of companionship? Eschew Eros in favour of Pragma?”  
Dave looked from Jake to Rochelle and back in confusion. Carlos laughed at him.  
”How many marriages would you say are conducted on such firm foundations as friendship and trust?”  
Dave shook his head and smiled.  
“Most of the weddings I have documented are based on an exchange of wealth and reputation; friendship and affection rarely feature. Would you please stand close together, there, by the rose bushes?” 

Carlos returned to the house, smirking to himself and making plans to travel with Rochelle and Jake to Plymouth to see them safely aboard their repurposed tea clipper and ready to set sail. He entered by the back door, sauntered through the passage that led past the kitchens and stopped. Had he heard something? A soft sound from the pantry? Carlos walked slowly backwards until he was level with the pantry door. Yes, there was a quiet whimper coming from within. Carlos tried the door. It gave on his second attempt and he slipped into the cool dimness.

“Ceece?”  
Cecil wiped his face on his sleeve. “Carlos! Um, I was…”  
“Ceece, come here.” Carlos held out his arms. “Tell me what happened.”  
“It’s nothing,” Cecil sighed and settled into Carlos’s embrace. “Probably nothing.”  
“Tell me anyway?”  
“Ugh I am probably being stupid. It’s just…”  
“Aah, did you argue with Earl?”  
“No!” Cecil stiffened and shook his head. “That’s the thing, Earl has been so lovely recently. I mean, he’s been… different.”  
Carlos caught Cecil’s eye for a second.   
“What do you mean?”  
“It’s nothing, really.”  
“Tell me.”  
Cecil sighed and shrugged.   
“I am concerned that something bad is going to happen and he knows but does not want to say anything. He has been so loving, you know? Usually he is the one who responds to my affectionate advances, but over the past few days he has been more… more… um… He has been offering affection without any of my gentle hints and without asking for anything, um, beyond that. Affection. You know.”  
Carlos kissed Cecil’s forehead.  
“You are worried because Earl has started to show you affection without being prompted?”  
“Yes!” Cecil almost cried out, “Exactly! He _never_ does that!”

“Huh.” Carlos frowned, thinking hard. “Don’t you like it?”  
“That’s not the point, Carlos,” Cecil rested his forehead on Carlos’s shoulder. “I just know there’s something he’s not telling me. Like, we have to move or something.” Cecil’s head shot up and he gripped tight to Carlos. “We don’t have to move, do we? We can all stay here?”  
Carlos stroked Cecil’s hair and kissed his cheek.   
“No, no, Ceece this is your home. Look, there is something happening but it’s not a bad thing. I want to see Rochelle and Jake off on their voyage so I will travel with them tomorrow and I am going to meet with someone in Plymouth, but I will be back in a few days and I promise I will explain my plan to secure our future together once I know all the details. Ceece, will you trust me on this and stop worrying?”  
Cecil sighed.  
“I will trust you, but I will also worry.”

Carlos waited for the sound of footsteps and voices in the passage outside the pantry to fade, kissed Cecil with warmth and a smile and slipped out. Earl was in the scullery wrestling with two boned fowl carcases and a handful of sausagemeat. Carlos snuck up behind Earl, hugged and kissed him while Earl’s hands were busy preparing their roast. Earl huffed and half-turned his head to glimpse Carlos’s face.  
“Carlos, you have to tell him. He knows something and it’s burning me up not saying.”  
“I know, and I will,” Carlos kissed Earl’s cheek. “As soon as I get back from waving Rochelle and Jake off. I promise.”

Carlos went upstairs to find Rochelle and Jake setting out thin metal plates on the billiards table. Dave fussed with spare plates and chemicals in the laboratory.   
“So you really got married!”  
“Yes,” Rochelle looked up. “We really did.”  
Jake _mmhmm_ -ed and nodded. Carlos fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat.  
“That was sudden.”  
“Yes,” Rochelle frowned. “And?”  
“Just…” Carlos shrugged, “...I’m surprised, that’s all. Happy for you both, of course.”  
Rochelle raised one eyebrow.  
“Ca-a-arlos?”  
“Mmm?”  
“Is the scientist who is having illicit affairs with two of his servants about to lecture the scientist who just got respectably, if hurriedly, married to a lovely young man? Because if so that scientist can fu--”  
“No! Not at all!” Carlos squeaked his protest. “I was just…”  
“Carlos?” Jake cut in with a distraction. “Choose one of these pictures for yourself if you would like one.”  
Carlos looked relieved.  
“May I? Thank you!”  
Carlos surveyed the collection of plates and chose a picture of Rochelle and Jake smiling at each other and holding hands in front of the rose garden.

A tap on the door made Carlos look round. Dave waved him over.   
“Sir Carlos? I had an idea, if I may be rather… bold in suggesting it. Um.”  
Dave looked at his feet but then swivelled his eyes up to aim a coy look at Carlos. Carlos waited.  
“Um, there is, in some, um, circles, um, a taste for photographic images of, um, a certain flavour.”  
Confused, Carlos shook his head and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds.  
“What?”  
“Um,” Dave continued, leading Carlos towards the laboratory. “I notice that you are _close_ to your, um, valet and your chef. Um… _very_ close? Um… _intimately_ so?”  
Carlos frowned and lowered his voice.  
“What are you trying to say?”  
Dave took a deep breath and looked along the passageway to the main door. He lowered his voice to a murmur.  
“If you would like some _more intimate_ portraits of your servants, with or without your good self, I would have no objection to providing that discreet service. For your, um… _personal_ enjoyment at some later date. If you would be agreeable to me keeping one picture of your lovely servants for reproduction and distribution amongst discerning gentlemen of similar tastes to yourself then I would of course perform this small service utterly free of charge.”   
Carlos stared at Dave for a full ten seconds, then blinked.  
“I would like you to leave as soon as you have finished taking portraits of my household, as we agreed, and nothing more.”

Earl asked Cecil to announce that dinner would be ready for seven in the evening. Carlos asked Cecil to gather everyone for portraits. Dave set up his camera and a couple of chairs in the herb garden where late afternoon sunbeams warmed the sage and the thyme, perfuming the air and lending a golden hue to everything they caressed. 

First, Carlos, Earl and Cecil posed with Roger, who squirmed and escaped as soon as he was allowed, disappointed not to be indulged in his request for a picture with his favourite feathered friends. After that, Earl and Cecil sat with their arms around each other's shoulders, knees touching, grinning at the camera. Maureen and Dana posed next, Dana stood beside Maureen with a hand on her shoulder, looking down while Maureen gazed up at her. 

Dave announced that he had two more unexposed plates. Carlos ushered Dana and Maureen back into the frame so that they would have a memento each. This time they stood facing each other, hands on Each other's waists. Carlos noted their casual affection with envy. Cecil murmured something to Earl, who grinned.  
"Sir Carlos, may Palmer and I have the honour of one picture with yourself? You could stand in the middle and Palmer and I will stand either side of you."  
Dave shrugged. Carlos agreed and took his position. Dave signalled that he was ready to expose the plate, Cecil and Earl both leaned in and kissed Carlos on opposite cheeks while Carlos shrieked in surprise. Maureen and Dana laughed, Dave grinned.  
"Sir Carlos? About my offer?"  
"No," Carlos shook his head. "Thank you. I will help you pack up your equipment. Cee-- Palmer, would you be so kind as to call for Dave's pony and cart?"

When Dave was gone, dinner was eaten and the house quiet, Earl slipped into Carlos's room. Cecil was already there, lounging on the bed, looking at the pictures and grinning.   
"Earl should have the one of all of us, it has Roger. Old Pa might like it?"  
Earl smiled and nodded.   
"I will show him but I expect he will tell me he knows what we look like and does not need a reminder. Carlos, which one do you like best?"  
Carlos pointed. "That one."  
Earl frowned.   
"The one of us reading? But that was just a test of the process. It wasn't even a proper pose."  
"Yes," Carlos smiled. "That is why I like it."   
Cecil reached for the one with Carlos's expression of surprise half-obscured by his own face and Earl's.  
"May I keep this one?"  
Carlos laughed and nodded, and said nothing about the kind of scenes Dave had offered to capture.

Carlos propped his tintype up against a box on his dressing table and started to undress.  
"Ceece? Earl? Will you both stay with me tonight? I want to accompany Rochelle and Jake to port and see them set sail safely. I expect to be gone for four nights, perhaps five and I will miss you both. Plymouth is surprisingly far away and the railway ends at Exeter. It is almost a day's journey from there to Plymouth."  
Earl smiled and nodded. Cecil shook out Carlos's clothes and hung them up.  
"Do you want me to pack for you now? Are you leaving early?"  
Carlos shook his head.   
"No, not too early. Our train is at noon and we will spend one night in Exeter before continuing by coach. I will travel light."

Cecil and Earl undressed and slipped into bed beside Carlos. Earl found himself in the middle and tried to wriggle over Carlos to get to the edge. Carlos resisted, wrapping his arms around Earl's waist and tipping him back into the middle of the bed.  
"Mmm, I have to get up first so I should be on the other side. I don't want to wake you when you could sleep in."  
"I'm comfortable here." Carlos sighed. "Like this."   
Carlos shuffled closer to Earl, keeping an arm around Earl's waist and shifting his lower arm up to Earl's head. Earl nestled into Carlos's shoulder and draped an arm around Carlos's hip. Cecil moved up close behind Earl and rolled against him, stretched out an arm across both Earl and Carlos to stroke Carlos's face. 

For a few moments nobody moved. Carlos opened an eye and saw Earl's face relaxed in what moonlight filtered through the gap in the curtain. A twin gleam from Cecil's eyes showed that Cecil was still awake. Carlos smiled and Cecil grinned back at him before lying down flat against Earl once more. 

Cecil rocked gently. Earl emitted a soft grunt and moved his hips forward into Carlos. Carlos suppressed a giggle, Cecil shushed him and inched even closer to Earl. A few seconds later it happened again. Carlos, aware of what Cecil was doing, reached across and gave his head a light slap. Cecil snorted and thrust against Earl slowly. Earl grumbled. Carlos kissed Earl's face and tried desperately not to think about his growing erection and how nice it felt to have Earl pressing against him.   
Earl sucked in a breath and spoke.  
"At least one of you better be planning on fucking me after that little game."

Carlos was apologetic, Cecil unrepentantly giggly.   
"Fine." Earl shifted around to face Cecil. "Here's what I want..."  
Earl described. Carlos and Cecil moved, Cecil to fetch the oil and Carlos to pull Earl down the bed and make sure he would be comfortable with pillows under his hips and one within reach if he wanted it under his head. Cecil knelt between Earl's thighs while Carlos faced Cecil and straddled Earl's head. Earl smiled up at Carlos and closed his eyes, humming his appreciation of Cecil's deft fingers. Carlos leaned down and kissed Earl's lips then sat up and pulled Cecil forward, kissing him too. Earl tapped Carlos's leg. Carlos raised up a little and spread his knees further apart, leaning weight on his hands, lowering his cock within Earl's reach. Earl hissed and giggled as Cecil crooked and twisted his fingers, making Earl gasp when he found his target. Carlos smiled, happy to see Earl's pleasure written over his face. Earl looked up at Carlos again, closing his eyes when Cecil pushed slowly in. Cecil wrapped his arms around Earl's thighs, anchored to Earl's legs slung over Cecil's shoulders, and leaned back slightly to make room for Carlos. Earl looped his arms around Carlos's hips and pulled him down. Carlos felt warmth envelop the head of his cock and a soft tongue lapping at his slit. He hitched his breath, letting out a contented sigh as he leaned forward and down to take as much of Earl's cock into his mouth as he could.

In the morning, Carlos got up last after Earl initiated a slow, leisurely wake up call that left all three of them reluctant to move but hungry for breakfast. He helped Cecil pack for him despite Cecil's protests that he could do his job better unhindered by Carlos removing items from his luggage. Mid-morning, Carlos kissed Cecil, Earl and a squirming Roger and got into the pony trap beside Jake and Rochelle. Earl and Cecil waved them away then returned to their duties. Cecil sighed and hugged Earl.  
"The house feels empty already, Earl. Promise me that you are not going anywhere?"  
Earl hugged Cecil and rubbed his back.  
"Oh sweetheart, where would I ever go?"


	29. All at sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake reveals a little of his past and Carlos is too trusting for his own good.

The journey south was long and uncomfortable and made Carlos fidget. The locomotive was hot, jerked and shuddered alarmingly when it stopped and started, and when Carlos tried opening a window he treated the carriage to a faceful of soot. They stopped at Bristol to take on water and coal amidst the yells, screeches, hisses and whistles of the station before resuming their noisy, filthy way to Exeter. Once settled in their modest guest-house, Rochelle and Jake explored while Carlos eased his travel stress by writing notes and drawing carefully annotated diagrams of how steam locomotives might be modified to improve the comfort of passengers.

Rochelle and Jake ordered food at an inn by the square around the cathedral, ate as if it was their first proper meal in a week then perched on the low wall that surrounded the imposing building, backs to the cobbled street. Rochelle turned to Jake and raised an eyebrow.  
"Still without regret?"  
Jake laughed.  
"No regrets yet. I cannot say what my future holds but I am... reassured by the thought that you are in it."  
"How sweet," Rochelle snorted. "I hope you are not disappointed to find that I am not wealthy."  
"What?" Jake looked genuinely shocked. "Rochelle... Is that what you thought of me? You knew I owned nothing but my clothes, I was dependent on the kindness of others. Whatever that ass of a clergyman made you vow in the name of tradition, what's yours remains yours and I make no claim on your property. I will earn my way." Rochelle took Jake's hand. Jake kissed her knuckles. "Besides, to a man who has always had nothing, any amount looks like a fortune."  
Rochelle stood and led Jake around the cathedral grounds, arm in arm.  
"Tell me," she asked, "how did you come to be associated with Carlos? I know only what he told me, which was through his own unique interpretation."  
Jake stopped walking and smiled at Rochelle.  
"Where would you like me to begin?"  
Rochelle shrugged.  
"At the beginning?"

Jake resumed his stroll around the cathedral.  
"I grew up in a poorhouse. I was lucky, I was not born in one and I was old enough when taken there that I already had the basics of reading and writing and I was too big to be a sweep. The matron saw fit to have me continue, a boy who could read for her and do the household accounts and help with the younger ones was of more use than a starving factory urchin. We were rounded up and marched to church twice a week. On those occasions I was taken aside by the schoolmaster and given books to hide in my coat and candle stubs to light my studies, although the reason for his interest remains unclear. Ha, I used to stand and sit and kneel and fantasise that he was my long-lost uncle or something and he would claim me one day."

Jake went quiet for half a minute.  
"When the less fortunate children were taken to work the factories and sweep chimneys, I was taken to a back room to transcribe columns of figures carefully and perform calculations for what I eventually found out were the master's shadier business dealings."

Jake sighed. Rochelle squeezed his arm.  
"The master?"  
"Marcus Vansten began his enterprise as a lender of money and... other people. The first time he interfered directly in my life I was fourteen or so and he had just bought the poorhouse. It looked good for him, it looked like philanthropy but all he wanted was..."  
"Cheap labour comprising people who will not be missed." Rochelle sighed. "I know his type. They form a scum on everything they touch."  
"Yes." Jake grimaced. "I did not know who he was at the time. He came to visit after church one day and matron called for me. She said, 'here's the one that can write good and count,' and Vansten got me a apprenticed at his bank. I was to be trained be his clerk." Jake glanced into Rochelle's eyes and looked away. "I was naive enough to wonder if the other boys and girls he took from the poorhouse on the cusp of adulthood became clerks too."  
Rochelle's grip on Jake's arm tightened and Jake shook his head. She kept her voice low and calm.  
"You couldn't have changed anything, Jake, none of you had any choice."  
Jake rubbed his eyes and gritted his teeth. 

"I looked after the Vansten accounts overnight, all of them, and those of clients he personally recommended. I was to report back to him each morning on any businesses that were facing insolvency, and soon they would appear in his books. I moved out of the poorhouse, ate and slept with three other nightshift clerks in a room behind the one where I worked. All he'd done was move his backstreet business into respectable premises. Nothing else changed."

Rochelle gaped.  
"Vansten was... using you to get information on people at risk of bankruptcy? Buying up businesses cheap?"  
Jake nodded.  
"Carlos did well to avoid doing business with Vansten, he would have been a soft target and I could not have protected him for long. I swear I didn't make the connection, back then, until one of the other clerks, a man with ambition who was kind to me and took me to the temple when he could, gave me a book he had borrowed on business practices. For five years I had enabled Vansten to strengthen his position in town and build his empire. As thanks for my loyal, unwitting service, Vansten had me dismissed. The same day as I faced unemployment and a future on the streets, he offered me a position as his personal assistant."  
"Ah." Rochelle nodded. "He manipulated you."  
"I didn't know it at the time, I saw him as my rescuer. I thought I could handle him." Jake shuddered. "I liked the lifestyle he offered and I was flattered. Nice clothes, as many books as I wanted to read... he opened his library to me on condition that I sat with him, learned about the law and kept his business affairs legal, if not moral."

Rochelle steered Jake back along the street that led to their guest house.  
"Did you never try to leave, find another employer?"  
Jake laughed with a hint of sarcasm.  
"Who would have me? I was his, he said he loved me and I thought I could change him. And... ugh. He could be charming. When he was happy he could be so kind. I was inexperienced in very many ways. The things he asked of me I assumed were just... just what our lords and masters all required of their servants."  
"You're not completely wrong there," Rochelle murmured. "What happened?"  
"I don't know for sure." Jake hesitated to tell the whole truth about his relationship with Vansten. some thngs were still too raw. "Something happened up here," He tapped his temple, "and I ran."  
"To Carlos?" Rochelle smiled. "A good choice."  
"No, I just ran and hid and Carlos's property was where I ended up. Young Roger took me to the stone circle, Cecil found us and Carlos took me in. The rest you know."

They were back at the guest house. Rochelle pushed the door open and led Jake inside, up to their room. It was clean but basic, with plain whitewashed walls and floral pattern bedcovers and curtains, a washstand in the corner and a rack for their luggage. A small, round, dark wooden table and two hard chairs completed the furnishing. Rochelle stripped to her underthings and lounged on the bed. Jake undressed more slowly, frowning.  
"I can't go to sleep yet," Jake sat on the edge of the bed. Rochelle sat behind him and stroked his shoulder. "My head is full of past misery. Talk to me about the future."  
Rochelle laughed and got up, rummaged in her bag and produced a bottle.  
"Here, share this with me? I was saving it for tomorrow but now is as good a time as any. It will be our last bottle of wine for a while. The captain I hired disapproves of bad weather, lewd behaviour and drunken sailors."  
Jake giggled.  
"Is this our last chance for lewd behaviour too?"  
Rochelle pushed Jake over and kissed him. They whiled away an hour, arms around each other, passing the bottle back and forth between them and giggling at tales of adventures they imagined they might have until they fell asleep.

Next morning, Carlos woke early and missed Cecil, but the novelty of being somewhere new soon pushed thoughts of home from his head. He laughed with delight when he unpacked his wash bag and found the tintype photograph of Cecil and Earl stashed under it with a note that simply said _Take care and come home safe_. Carlos wrapped it with the note and packed it carefully.

All three ate breakfast quickly, settled their account with the landlady and were ready when the coach arrived shortly after sunup to take them the fifty miles or so to Plymouth. It was an arduous journey. Although quieter than the locomotive, there were times the passengers were required to get out and walk to lighten the load on gruelling inclines skirting bleak moorland, and two halts to change horses made Carlos worry that they would have to stop short of their destination before nightfall. 

On nearing Plymouth, Carlos caught scent of the sea and smiled. Rochelle grinned back at him.  
"You miss this, don't you?"  
Carlos nodded.  
"I am looking forward to my expedition, Rochelle. I had been dreading it but I miss the excitement of seeing strange places, making new discoveries, collecting and documenting!" Carlos waved his hands as he enthused about his trip. "Aah, science!"  
Rochelle pointed at a dark shape hulking in the harbour opposite their lodgings.  
"You're in luck. That's _The Bluffs,_ an old opium clipper arrived early to be properly fitted out as your scientific ship. You can probably go aboard tomorrow and look. _The Timeless_ is ready to sail, she's waiting for us, anchored just beyond. We'll row out in the morning. Tide's at noon."

There were a few drinking establishments around the port but none looked inviting. Carlos, Jake and Rochelle retired to their lodging intent on a quiet night. Rochelle handed a slim file to Carlos.  
"Your inventory. You can check with the captain that everything is either on board or on order. I have heard he is very reliable and quite a friendly fellow. Now's your chance to add any essentials I may have missed." Rochelle smiled at Carlos. "Although I think I have been quite thorough."  
Carlos skimmed the list and laughed.  
"Yes, I should be very well equipped when I set off. Six more weeks! I can hardly wait."  
Jake laughed.  
"Does Cecil know? You told him?"  
Carlos looked away.  
"Earl knows. I will tell Cecil once I get back from this trip. I don't want him to worry more than necessary."  
Rochelle pointed at Carlos's chest.  
"You have not told Cecil yet? Carlos, how do you think he's going to feel when he finds out you've hidden this from him!"  
"I will tell him, I promise!" Carlos raised his hands and took a step back. "Since the ship is here I could bring Cecil to see it. Maybe Earl and Roger too, I bet Roger would be fascinated."  
Rochelle nodded, satisfied with this idea, and said goodnight. 

The morning was frantic. Rochelle and Jake checked and double checked their itinerary and inventory with their captain's mate. Jake arranged last minute details while Rochelle went to the outfitters to pick up missing items from their essential kit list. All too soon, Carlos hugged Rochelle then Jake at the quayside and they were rowed away to the tea clipper anchored in the bay. Carlos watched them climb aboard, turn and wave and vanish from sight. He heard snatches of shouts and cries brought in on the wind and saw sails unfurl. The long, slim clipper creaked and groaned and eased out to open water amid cheers and song.

Carlos looked over at the other tall masted ship in the harbour. He had all afternoon and evening to spend and an itch for exploration. He watched a crewman pass back and forward a couple of times before hailing him.  
"Hey, I'm sailing with _The Bluffs_ once she's fitted out. Can I go aboard? Is the captain there?"  
The crewman, a giant by Carlos's reckoning, nodded and pointed up. Carlos saw a rope ladder dangling from the side of the ship, about a third of the way back. It looked precarious, but Carlos reasoned that this was no time for nerves. As he reached for the ladder, a call startled him and he looked up. A man was coming down.

He reached Carlos and held out a hand. Carlos shook it and smiled. He looked at the man's stained clothing.  
"I apologise for interrupting your work. Were you painting? My name is Carlos--"  
"--The Scientist, ri-i-ight?" Carlos nodded. "Hey, friend! It's good to meet you at last. I'm your captain, this is my ship. What do you say we get the business over? I am authorised to transfer funds now you are here in person, if you would be so kind as to accompany me to the bank there."  
The man pointed. Carlos looked at the stone building behind the customs house and smiled.  
"Yes, that would be--"  
"--such a productive use of our time, yes? Are you staying nearby?"  
Carlos nodded and pointed. The man beamed.  
"How wonderfully convenient! Wait, I will have someone bring your things on board. Your quarters are ready, you might as well dine with me and sleep there tonight. Get a feel for it. What do you say?"  
"Um," Carlos felt a little spike of excitement at spending a night on board his ship. Maybe when he brought Cecil they could both bunk on board. And Earl and Roger, of course. "Aye aye, captain?"  
"Ha!" The man grinned wide. "Won't it be just so much _fun!_ " He waved at someone working on deck and yelled his orders with an _if-you-please_ in front and a _thank-you-so-much_ at the end that didn't quite sit comfortably with his position as a ship's captain. Still, Carlos reassured himself, Rochelle vouched for him.

In the bank, business was conducted with efficiency and Carlos took the opportunity to write to his own bank to ask that access to funds for domestic purposes be granted to Cecil Palmer and Earl Harlan. The captain waited patiently with a smile on his lips until Carlos was ready.  
"You are happy with the terms of our agreement?"  
Carlos nodded.  
"Yes, it seems very straightforward."  
"Isn't that just wonderful! Let's get you on board and I will show you how things work on my ship."  
The two men walked back to the port and the captain pointed to a ramp from the quayside to the deck.  
"See? We are all ready for you. Welcome aboard, Carlos!"

Carlos was fascinated by the modifications on board the ship. There were storerooms, of course, all filled with non perishables, and the captain explained that they would increase profits by running as a cargo ship, picking up goods to transport at each stop. Carlos nodded at this, it was normal for such an expedition to make the most of any hold space that was not required for science. The captain pointed to crates currently being loaded by a small army of large, well-muscled dockers.  
"We stop in Lisbon to unload manufactured goods and pick up... Oh you know what? I bet you don't want all the boring details. I will look after business, you can look after your... science. Hmmm, friend?"  
"Yes!" Carlos laughed. He thought he would get along well with Captain Kevin. 

The captain saw Carlos settled in his berth and invited him to an informal dinner. Carlos tested the narrow bunk and thought it uncomfortable, until he was woken by a knock on his door and a call that the captain awaited his attendance. Carlos sat, scratched his head, rubbed his face, yawned and stood and stretched. He pushed his fingers through his hair and looked around his berth in confusion. His picture of Cecil and Earl reading by the fireplace was fixed to the wall and his washbag and spare clothing lay in a cupboard. His book rested in a recess in the wall with his notebook and pen. A second knock at the door roused him from thought and he followed the crewman to the captain's quarters.

Captain Kevin was friendly and welcoming. Carlos suggested they go through his inventory and route details but Kevin took the file and put it aside.  
"Oh, dear Carlos! I can take care of that for you. Everything is exactly as it should be on _The Bluffs._ It always has been! Come, eat. I am sure you have earned it."  
Carlos considered reaching for his papers but the captain sat between him and the precious lists. He looked at Kevin's wide smile and decided to relax. He could retrieve his papers in due course. Carlos had a second question.  
"Captain? Someone has unpacked all my things and..."  
"Oh yes!" Kevin laughed and clapped. "Wasn't that just so helpful of them. I will pass on your thanks to the crewperson responsible."  
Carlos frowned, his confusion had not lessened one bit. 

Captain Kevin was entertaining over dinner. Carlos found himself laughing and watching Kevin's movements. There was little of note about his physical appearance, but something in his almost black eyes and the fluid way he moved reminded Carlos of Cecil. Kevin topped up Carlos's wine and clinked their glasses together.  
"To a productive voyage, my dear Carlos!"  
"Mmyes," Carlos nodded, slurring slightly. Kevin giggled.  
"Oh dear, drink up and I will see you safely to your bunk."

Carlos woke feeling like the ground was moving beneath him. Confused, he clutched his head and groaned as his memory fed him a partial tale of a dinner with too much wine. He wondered if he was still a little drunk, for he definitely felt a regular swaying movement, pitching and rolling slightly, and the whooshing, swishing hiss and slap of water. The push of waves against the wooden ship, he supposed. It must be windy, he reasoned. Carlos sat, head down, desperate to hold on to his stomach contents. There was a wide based bucket by his bunk and a wide-bottomed flask. Carlos opened the flask and sniffed. It was fresh water. He drank small sips that stabbed his stomach and lay down again to wait for the berth to steady, wondering if Cecil would be _very_ worried if he returned a day later than planned. 

Two hours after that, Carlos staggered up out of his berth, gaped at the open sea, clambered up on deck and yelled. Captain Kevin laughed and smiled and waved.  
"Isn't this wonderful, Carlos? We were able to secure early release from port. With our scientist on board there was no need to wait. Look! There's the coast of France. We will be in Lisbon in three days!


	30. Home thoughts

“STOP!” Carlos yelled at the top of his voice and waved at Captain Kevin. “We have to turn back! We--”  
“Oh! Hahaha,” Kevin smiled wide. “Stop? No, we can’t possibly do that, Carlos! I have a schedule to keep. I have to get those crates to Lisbon in time to pick up a new cargo of… valuable goods.”  
“But I was not supposed to sail until October!” Carlos’s voice raised in pitch until his voice was a plaintive wail. “I am expected back at home!”  
“Home?” Kevin’s grin raised a notch. “Why, dear Carlos, _The Bluffs_ is your home now! We will continue on course to Portugal and then… onward! Relentless progress, ri-i-ight?”  
“No!” Carlos’s face fell and he resorted to pleading.”You don’t understand, I have to! I have to go back! Please, take me back to Plymouth!”  
Kevin looked mournful for a moment and shook his head slowly from side to side in a parody of sympathy.  
“Ah, dear Carlos, that is simply not possible. We are on course and we will stay on course. That is the most productive and profitable thing to do.” His face brightened back to his fixed smile. “You will _adore_ Lisbon! And I am _sure_ you will be _more_ than happy to get back aboard to resume our travels together.”

Carlos tried pleading, he tried reasoning, he asked, begged and demanded to be dropped at the nearest port but Kevin would not budge. Eventually, Carlos gave up and headed back to his berth. Lisbon would have a telegraph office, he could contact Cecil from there and explain, tell him not to fret, promise to be home soon. Lisbon was a busy port, Carlos reasoned with himself. He could probably pick up a ship sailing back to Plymouth and be home a week or two late. In the meantime, he thought he may as well investigate the contents of the berth next to the one in which he spent the night. The door was marked _Laboratory._

\------------

“Yes!” Earl almost snapped at Cecil. “Carlos will be home soon, I’m sure.”  
“I know,” Cecil sighed,” but he said four or five days and it was four days yesterday. That makes it five days today and the train was due in an hour ago. He should be here.”  
“Ceece, give him time? He might have missed the train or decided to stay an extra day at the seaside. I've heard It's nice down there.” Earl put an arm around Cecil’s shoulders. “Or got caught up staring at something scientifically interesting and forgotten the time. He’ll be home when he’s ready.”  
Cecil sighed and shrugged Earl's arm off his shoulders.  
"I know, I know. I miss him, don't you?"  
"Of course I do," Earl pulled Cecil into a hug that Cecil did not resist this time, "but he's an experienced explorer and scientist. He'll be fine."

Carlos did not return that day or the next or the one after. Cecil insisted on waiting at the station in town each evening for the northbound train to empty and fail to produce Carlos. By the fourth day after Carlos's expected return date even Earl was worried, but he did not dare voice his concern to Cecil. Instead, Earl sought out Miss Maureen.

Maureen looked up from the book on the table, a frown remaining from her scrutiny of Roger's spelling.   
"Earl! Um, have you been helping Roger with his words? Only--"  
"Ha!" Earl seemed genuinely amused. "The opposite. Maureen," Earl's voice lowered to a murmur, "if I wanted to find out if some accident had befallen... someone in Devon, how would I do it?"  
Maureen sat to attention immediately. She matched Earl's low, desperate tone.  
"Dana and I were discussing that exact problem yesterday morning! Earl, I think Carlos is probably fine but it is strange that he has not been in contact to explain his absence. I, um, I have taken the liberty of contacting Miss Hart of _The Journal_ already to find out if there is any newsworthy reason why Carlos would be delayed, and there have been no reported disasters that would affect him, no tales of travellers being waylaid or vanishing on the moors, as happens there. I asked Miss Hart to help us find out where Carlos is. I am to meet with her this evening, unless we hear from Carlos first."  
Earl felt a stab of fear. If Cecil worried about something, Earl brushed it off as _that's our Ceece_ , but if Maureen was also worried, he perhaps ought to take it seriously. Maureen must have noticed the change in his expression, a paling of his cheeks and widening of his eyes perhaps.   
"Do you think–"  
"No! No, Earl, Carlos can take care of himself. If some misfortune had met him on his travels, we would know by now. Keep, um..."  
"Keep Cecil calm?"  
Maureen raised her eyebrows and nodded slowly.

Earl distracted Cecil for most of the day by insisting that they should help Dana set the manor in proper order for when Carlos returned. Earl focused his efforts in the kitchen, disused and dusty since the scullery with its half-range was big enough for the purpose of catering for the Manor's diminished occupancy. Cecil concentrated his work in the laundry, washing Carlos's shirts and underclothes along with his own, Earl's and Roger's, putting them out to dry in the breeze and bringing them in to iron away the last traces of moisture in front of, warming the irons on the half-range. Roger helped Dana chase dust from the living areas and damp from closed off rooms then sat with a homemade pen and corrected his spelling. Maureen, happy with Roger's efforts, accompanied Cecil into town. Cecil took the pony and trap to the railway station as usual, Maureen went to Leann Hart's office.

"I found out something interesting." Leann got straight to the point. "The telegraph, you know!" Maureen looked blank. Leann rolled her eyes and sighed. "Oh I shouldn't expect you to know about it. It is for important communications only. News. Wires are installed alongside the railways and we receive communications from Everywhere, via London." Leann stood proud and smiled at Maureen. "Everywhere that has railways, anyway. It's how my newspaper is so up to date. Why, if something happens in Exeter I will know about it here within the day!"  
Maureen paled.   
"Leann, has something happened in Exeter?"  
"No," Leann shook her head. "Why? Oh!" she laughed. "Oh I see. No. Your employer has not met his doom in Exeter. Or anywhere as far as I can tell."  
"Leann," Maureen sighed and laid one hand on Leann's forearm. "Please, if you have heard anything relevant, please tell me or show me where I can use this telegraph system to–"  
"What!" Leann stepped back and glared at Maureen. "You? Use the telegraph? No! It is not for ordinary people to use! It is for..." Leann puffed herself up, _"news professionals_ only. And news should be reported through official–"  
"I understand," Maureen placated Leann with a pleading look and a quiet apology. "Please forgive me, will you tell me what you have discovered."  
"Well," Leann leaned in and smiled. "There was an unscheduled departure and an unpaid boarding house bill. One Carlos Scientist is reported as having done a midnight flit from a quayside lodging, and the same night a ship called _The Bluffs_ sailed without paying what was owed to the harbourmaster. Your Sir Carlos would be wise not to show his face in Plymouth any time soon."

Maureen walked to the railway station to meet Cecil, who was as dejected as usual by the lack of scientist on the seat beside him. Maureen hoisted herself up.  
"Any news?" Cecil asked, flat voice backed by a sigh.  
Maureen was not ready. She shrugged and shook her head.  
"Maybe. Let's get home and I'll tell everyone what Leann said."  
Cecil watched Maureen's face for a few seconds before clicking at the pony and shaking the reins. Maureen stared resolutely at the pony's rump all the way back to the stables.

Cecil helped the stable-hand with the pony and trap, and Maureen rushed inside to find Dana or Earl. She just had time to blurt out to Earl in the kitchen _Carlos is gone_ before Cecil appeared to scrub his hands at the laundry sink. Earl nodded at Maureen and she went to fetch Dana. Soon, five people sat around the servants' dining room. Earl and Cecil sat at right angles to each other, Maureen perched opposite Earl, and Dana spoke quietly to Roger who dozed against her. Earl smiled, walked around the table, lifted Roger and kissed his hair. Roger wriggled, settled on papa's lap, sighed and yawned.

Maureen laid her hands flat on the table and took a deep breath. She stared at her knuckles.  
"Cecil? Leann told me that Carlos went missing from his lodging in Plymouth the same night as his ship, _The Bluffs_ sailed ahead of schedule."  
Maureen felt Dana's hand on her thigh, a reassuring squeeze. She risked a glance at Cecil. Cecil sat frowning.  
"What do you mean, _his_ ship sailed? Shouldn't Carlos be back if his ship went without–" Cecil's mouth remained open but his sentence remained unfinished. His eyes opened wide and he turned to Earl. "No, no he wouldn't. Carlos just WOULD NOT leave like that. Earl, Carlos wouldn't leave us!"  
Earl shifted in his seat, trying not to wake Roger.  
"Ceece, honey," Earl reached out one hand and found Cecil's arm. "Ceece, listen. Carlos did plan to go away for a while but–"  
"YOU KNEW? YOU–"   
Cecil's chair scraped back. His bellow was interrupted by Roger's wail. Earl soothed Roger, stroked his head, hushed him and bounced him gently in his lap until the boy's howls reduced to whimpers and snorts. By then Cecil was gone. Maureen and Dana waited, two pairs of eyes fixed on Earl.  
"You knew?" Maureen echoed Cecil, but as a question rather than an accusation. Earl nodded, still rocking Roger gently.  
"Carlos told me he had to leave for the winter, but he wasn't supposed to go yet. He was going to tell Cecil nearer the time."  
Maureen stood up and put her arms out for Roger. Earl did not move. Dana stood and shook her head at Earl.  
"You need to put this right with Cecil, Earl. We'll take Roger up to bed. You can come say goodnight when you're ready."  
"But I didn't do anything wrong!" Earl protested with a sigh. "Carlos was supposed to come home and sort all this out himself."

Earl relinquished Roger and went looking for Cecil. After a search of the pantry, the laboratory, Carlos's bedroom, the room Earl sometimes shared with Cecil, and Roger's room, Earl traipsed up to the servants' quarters. Cecil lay face down on the bare mattress of the bed that used to be his, head under his arms. Earl sat on the narrow, creaky bed opposite.  
“Ceece?”  
Cecil didn’t move.  
“Aw, c’mon Ceece. Carlos was supposed to come home, he was going to tell you about his trip himself when he was ready. Cecil? I promise I didn’t know he was leaving so soon, and I bet he didn’t know either.”  
“That makes it all better then.” Cecil’s voice was quiet and muffled. “When were you two planning to tell me, the day before he left me? Were you going to go too?”  
“No, Cecil, sweetheart, of course not.” Earl shifted over to perch on the edge of Cecil’s bed. “I told Carlos he should tell you and he wanted to. Something went wrong. It must have.” Earl laid one hand on Cecil's back. "He wouldn't leave you like this unless he had no choice."

Cecil turned his face out of the pillow but did not look at Earl.  
"Everyone leaves me. Sooner or later everyone tires of me and moves on. Carlos will meet someone new and I won't see him again."   
Earl lay beside Cecil, barely balanced on the thin strip of mattress. Cecil shuffled over and Earl spooned against him, hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his head.  
"Ceece, he'll come home." 

Footsteps thundering upstairs woke Cecil and Earl some time later. Roger burst into the room and launched himself on top of his papas. Earl groaned, winded.  
“Maureen says come downstairs. There’s a letter.”  
Cecil sat up, almost tipping Roger onto the floor. The boy giggled and slithered back up for a hug then jumped off and rumbled back down the narrow wooden staircase. Cecil glanced mournfully at Earl.  
“You go read it and tell me what he says. I can’t bear it. If it’s a goodbye I want to hear it from you.”  
Earl ruffled Cecil’s hair and kissed him.  
“Come with me. We can read it together, whatever it is.”

Cecil shook his head. Earl plodded downstairs to the hallway. Maureen held out the letter.  
“It’s addressed to Cecil.”  
Earl examined the envelope. He took it into the laboratory and used Carlos’s favourite scalpel to slit neatly across the top. Maureen hovered by the door. Earl waved her over.  
“Um, read it with me?”  
Maureen nodded. Earl smoothed the unfolded document on the desk and followed words with care. He frowned. Maureen read beside him.  
“That’s something, he has not forgotten about us.”  
“What is it, Earl? Is it from Carlos?”  
Cecil peered around the door. Maureen smiled at him. Earl nudged Maureen.  
“Not exactly. Maureen, you explain better than I do. You tell him.”   
“It’s from the bank,” Maureen said, sticking to the facts. “Carlos wrote to his bank to give permission for you, Earl and Dana to use his bank account for domestic expenses. They want the three of you to sign some paperwork and have made an appointment for you tomorrow.”

\-------------

Carlos stood on deck, gripping the metal guard rail around the side of the ship and stared into the distance. He heaved again but there was nothing left inside. His throat, raw from repeated bouts of nausea, burned and his head spun. A sailor passed him a flask.  
“Drink, slow.”  
Carlos nodded, conveying thanks with his eyes. The crewman smiled wide.  
“Look, you can see land.”  
Carlos’s eyes watered in the salt wind. He sipped, rinsed, spat and sipped again, this time swallowing and letting the bitter water cool his burning gullet.  
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I have never been seasick before. How long?”  
The crewman shrugged and turned away. He called back, “Half a day, less if the harbourmaster’s happy and allows us to enter the harbour immediately.” 

Carlos spent the remainder of the day below deck in his quarters. He reclined in his bunk and stared at a point on the wall until his stomach settled, sipping water and wishing for ginger or peppermint and a return to the first day when the constant movement had provided challenge and entertainment rather than discomfort and confusion. He dozed, dreaming fitfully of Cecil and Earl, starting awake at the nightmarish visions his starved and dehydrated mind conjured for him. Eventually he slept.

When Carlos woke it was because of a hand on his shoulder.   
“Oh there you are, sleepyhead! Carlos, my dear, we are at anchor! Would you like to explore dry land?” Kevin grinned. “Haha, I can hardly wait to see you attempt to walk on a steady dockside now you have found sea-legs!”

Carlos sat up, waited for his head to settle then stood, holding on to the wall. The motion of the ship was less than before and when he emerged into low sunlight, he felt warmth on his face rather than the burn of salt spray. He saw that a ramp had been positioned to allow ease of loading and unloading and carefully made his way down on his backside, Captain Kevin laughing behind him. He sat on the stone quayside, eyes closed and imagining motion that did not exist, until he trusted his legs to carry him to somewhere he did not have to look at _The Bluffs._

His head steadier, Carlos stood and took a few wobbly steps. _Probably lack of food and water,_ he reasoned with himself, _and I’ve slept so much my head feels full of cotton._ A few more steps, concentrating on walking upright and not lurching from side to side, brought Carlos to the Customs House.  
“Ah, a true merchant’s instinct,” Kevin’s voice sounded uncomfortably close. “Help me register my cargo then I will show you lodgings where you may while away the hours until we sail.”  
Carlos nodded. They entered the squat, functional building. Carlos translated for Kevin, Kevin signed papers, the official stamped them and gave Kevin a copy. Kevin sighed happily as they changed currency and left the customs house.

“You are so _useful_ Carlos, I had no idea you spoke Portugese so fluently. You are such a _productive_ asset to my crew. I can tell we are going to have to keep you occupied in a way that befits your status on board. The next leg of our journey is a little longer and the seas will be less friendly.”  
“I have sailed before," Carlos said. "Only I was never so sick.”  
“Oh? You have experience with seamen?” Kevin grinned. “You are going to be so _busy_ from now on!”  
Carlos sighed and rubbed his face.  
“I am a _scientist_ Kevin, I am on board for scientific purposes. When I am recovered from this mystery sickness I will keep myself busy with _science._ ” Carlos scowled but Kevin was smiling into the sun. “I see no need to involve any of your seamen in my work.”

Kevin laughed and pointed to a gaudily decorated building across from the harbour.  
“That establishment is particularly entertaining. If you would rather spend a night or two on land, I recommend it highly.” He sniggered. “I may stay there myself, at least for an hour or two. _The Bluffs_ will be noisy with the business of unloading and loading.”  
Carlos observed the people sitting out in the sun, calling welcomes to passers-by, and forced a smile at Kevin.  
“Why thank you. I think I will settle in and have an early night.”

Carlos walked across the cobbled road. Kevin grinned until he saw Carlos disappear inside the inn on the arm of one of the ladies recently sitting outside. The captain jogged back to his ship and barked out orders. They would be unloading by moonlight while their passenger dozed insensible from whatever excesses he chose to indulge.

Inside the dingy inn, Carlos followed his hostess, who caused Carlos to stare when she introduced herself as _Cecilia,_ up to a small, clean room.   
“Oh! um, Eu não quero fazer sexo com você.” Carlos smiled and shook his head. “I wanted rid of Captain Kevin. I’ll pay, but I only want somewhere I can rest and write a letter. Do you have paper and a pen?”  
Cecilia frowned uncertainly but nodded.  
“I can get those for you if you buy a whole hour. May I sleep while you write? Please don’t tell Mistress Lorena.”  
Carlos agreed and gave Cecilia the amount of cash she asked for. Cecilia vanished but returned a few minutes later carrying a tray containing two glasses and a bottle.  
“Lorena said Captain Kevin sent you this. It’s from his own ship, not the pisswater we sell.” She set the tray down on the bed, fished up inside her skirts and produced two sheets of paper, a pen and a bottle of ink. “Lorena will notice those are missing, if you hear anyone, hide them.”  
Cecilia poured two glasses of what may have been wine from the bottle and offered one to Carlos. He thanked her and put the glass down without drinking. Cecilia knocked hers back in one and poured another, drinking it more slowly, taking the bottle with her and reclining on the bed, watching Carlos write.

Carlos thought, smiled and wrote. He looked up at the sound of Cecilia’s glass clattering on the bare wooden floor. Cecilia still lay on the bed, head lolling back and eyes closed, breaths rasping from her mouth. Carlos frowned, stood and patted Cecilia’s cheek. She was unresponsive, but her breathing eased once Carlos laid her on her side with her head tilted slightly back. He looked at the bottle. It was labelled as wine, but from the level of liquid remaining, Cecilia had not drunk enough to be unconscious. Carlos sniffed at his glass carefully. He took one small sip and pulled a face, it reminded him of… of… Carlos slapped his forehead. It had the same aftertaste as the water he had been given on board _The Bluffs._

Carlos looked around the room. He folded up his letter, hid it inside the lining of his waistcoat, poured the remainder of the wine out of the window, carefully dribbling it down the wall so that it would make no noise below. He walked to the door but stepped back in panic when he heard footsteps and a sickeningly familiar voice.  
 _”Lorena my sweet, how is your guest? Did he appreciate my little gift?”_  
 _”Hush Kev, don’t interfere. I will keep up my end of our deal but you have to let me do things my way. You cost me one of my best girls and a room for the whole night. You owe me.”_  
 _”My dear Lorena, if you are concerned about loss of earnings I can send you my crew. They are in a most productive mood this evening.”_  
 _”That will not be necessary.”_

As the footsteps approached, Carlos pulled off as much clothing as he had time to remove and dived into bed beside Cecilia. He closed his eyes, threw a bare arm around the unconscious woman's shoulders, and mimicked Cecilia’s deep, steady breaths. He heard the door creak open and a chuckle from behind him.  
“Oh Lorena, they make such a sweet pair. I think you will find compensation in his wallet.” Kevin sniggered.  
“No.” A sharp, female voice beside Kevin’s. “This establishment has a reputation. We are not thieves. He can pay honestly for a night when he wakes.”  
“Seems such a shame to leave him here all helpless. I could have such fun if I did not have other demands on my time tonight.”

Carlos held in his shudder until he heard the door close. He dressed quietly, tucked a few extra coins into Cecilia’s pocket and cracked the door open. He had to find somewhere safe to spend the night, send his letter, somehow get back on board to retrieve his belongings and the rest of his money, and find a boat sailing back home.

\-------------

Cecil and Earl dressed in their best formal clothes. Dana borrowed a dress fit for a lady from Maureen but drew the line at being laced into a corset. Together they went into town with the stable-hand driving the trap because Maureen insisted that appearances would matter very much. At the bank, the three waited to be called forward to a vacant desk. Eventually, some minutes past their appointed time by Carlos’s pocketwatch, a clerk approached and asked if they would kindly follow them. Cecil checked his watch again. 

The clerk frowned.  
“Sir, um, Mister Palmer, that timepiece. Where did you get it?”  
Cecil took it out again.  
“It’s mine, it was a gift from--”  
“It belongs to Sir Carlos Scientist! I have seen him here with it!” The clerk looked around, biting his lip. He made eye contact with two burly gentlemen who approached them. The clerk pointed at Cecil. “This man is a thief!”

The two men grabbed Cecil by the arms before he had a chance to predict what was about to happen. He squirmed, a reflex action that made the security men hold all the more tightly. One twisted an arm up Cecil’s back, the other fended off Earl’s attempt to extract Cecil from their grasp. Dana found herself on the wrong side of a slammed door, Earl and Cecil having been hauled through and pushed into chairs. She looked around desperately for anyone who might have known that Carlos gave Cecil such a precious gift. One man stood frowning at the heavy, wooden door. Probably, thought Dana, just enjoying the show.

Inside the room, accusations flew. Cecil repeated his assertion that Sir Carlos gave him the watch, the clerk protested that such an eminent gentleman would not have given anything of value to _the likes of you_ and demanded at increasing volume to know where Cecil intended to go to sell it. 

Cecil yelled back, face red and blotchy, tears of hurt and fear running down his face. Earl joined the protest, only to be included in the supposed theft and was made to endure rude questioning of his own heritage. Cecil eventually slumped in silence, staring at the watch on the desk in front of him. Earl reached out a hand and squeezed Cecil’s arm.

“Ceece, they will have to get the magistrate. They will sort this out.”  
“No,” Cecil’s voice was directed at his lap. “You know what _they_ think of _the likes of us_. When it comes to my word against someone else’s…”  
Cecil sniffed and wept. Earl wished he could get up and hold his friend, reassure him that it would all be sorted out, but he felt some of Cecil’s uncertainty himself. The door opened and someone cleared their voice behind them.

“Excuse me, sirs, mister Harlan and mister Palmer, would you please come with me? There has been an unfortunate misunderstanding. I have your documents ready for you to sign.”  
Earl looked round. The young newcomer wore the uniform of a bank employee and a terrified expression. Earl stood and scooped up Cecil’s watch, took Cecil by the elbow and encouraged him up before tucking the watch back into Cecil’s pocket. They left the room without a further glance at their accuser.

Cecil signed where indicated, refusing to speak or look at the junior clerk. Earl signed too, giving gruff yes and no answers when obliged. Dana asked what would happen next and filled out a chit to withdraw enough cash to pay the manor accounts with businesses in town. They returned to the manor without speaking, Earl clasping Cecil’s hand between both of his. Dana followed them into the scullery and watched as Earl made dinner. Maureen and Roger joined them, making the half sized kitchen feel busy.

“Ah come on,” Earl complained, dumping the butter dish on the table with the remains of the day’s bread. “You can’t expect me to cook for everyone with you all watching!”  
“Earl,” Maureen pointed out, ”you’re just putting out things for us to make our own sandwiches.”  
Roger asked for cheese and pickles and climbed up an Cecil’s lap. Cecil smiled and pulled the bread close enough to saw off a thick chunk. Maureen pushed the cheese closer to them.  
“So, did it go smoothly at the bank?”  
Earl looked at Cecil, who concentrated on slicing pickled cucumber finely, the way Roger liked. Maureen turned her attention to Dana. Dana sighed.  
“There was one complication. An absolute ass of a clerk accused Cecil of stealing Carlos’s watch. They would only let him go after someone they knew vouched for him. I didn’t catch his name, but he said he was personal assistant to Hiram McDaniels and he saw Sir Carlos give Cecil his watch at Josie’s ball.”

Maureen stared open-mouthed at Dana, glancing at Cecil who had finished making Roger’s sandwich and watched him devour it. Dana reached for the loaf and the breadknife.  
“Hmm, I thanked him for speaking up but he wouldn’t wait to speak to Cecil or Earl. He said something odd, something like _I need Palmer to be at home these days_ and walked away. The bank manager sent a junior clerk to tell Cecil and Earl it was all a mistake. _No harm done, eh?_ ” Dana aped the bank manager’s bluster. “ _No need to tell Sir Carlos about such a little misunderstanding hahaha.”_

Earl gripped the handle of the carving knife so hard his knuckles went even whiter than usual. He stabbed the point into the rough wooden tabletop and growled _bastards didn’t even apologise._ Everyone looked when Cecil let out a brittle laugh.  
“That’s how it is when you look different. When people think you don’t deserve things because your face doesn’t fit. Or your voice,” Cecil looked up at Earl, “hmm? How quickly came the accusation that you were involved? As soon as they heard you speak, I bet.”  
Earl nodded. He held his arms out to Roger who consented to being lifted from Cecil’s lap and swung into the air before having his feet set on the tiled floor.  
“Come then, Roger, outside and show me your favourite chook.”

Cecil’s mood lifted gradually. He sat in the Laboratory and read until the light faded. Rather than light a lamp, he put his tale of swashbuckling on the high seas down and went in search of Earl. Earl was in Roger’s room, lying on the bed beside his boy, telling him a story of fae and unwary humans who dared trespass over their border. Roger added to the tale, voice slow and drowsy, until his eyes closed and his head lolled on the pillow. Cecil smiled, Earl held a finger to his lips and slid silently off the counterpane. They retreated from the dim room.

“How are you feeling?” Earl peered at Cecil in the dark hallway. A flickering line of light from under Dana and Maureen’s door the only illumination.  
“Come to bed. Do you think Carlos would mind if we slept in his bed tonight?”  
Earl took Cecil’s hand and led him down one floor and into Carlos’s bedchamber. They undressed and slipped between cold sheets.  
“Today reminded me of how precarious our position here is, Earl. I hope Carlos is back soon.”  
Earl lay awake with his arm around Cecil, closing his eyes and trying to think himself into slumber. Cecil shifted around and eventually got up to put on one of Carlos’s old nightshirts, one he had laughed at because it was so outdated in style. Earl smiled when he felt the fabric and smelled its warmth.  
“Mmm, I miss him too.”

In the morning, with the sun well above the horizon, Earl and Cecil woke to Roger’s excited voice as the boy climbed up onto the bed.  
“Dana says come down, there are letters for my papas and Maureen!”


	31. Escape Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for racism and references to slave ships in this chapter. Slavery was not abolished in Brazil until 1888.

Carlos tucked his letter into Cecilia's pocket, waited until it was fully dark and slipped out of the room. He paused in the passageway, flush against the wall as voices came louder from the room opposite. Too soon, the door was flung open to reveal three half-drunk revellers being good-naturedly encouraged to leave by two of the establishment's employees. Carlos saw his chance and tagged along close behind, aping their merry grins and unsteady gait. In the main bar downstairs, Carlos found it easy to merge into the noisy throng and slip out into the street. Still acting inebriated, he made his way back to the docks. Watching from the side of the silent customs building, a single guttering candle flame betraying the token presence of one officer, Carlos saw _The Bluffs_ being unloaded. 

He settled down to wait for an opportunity to sneak aboard. Crates were carried down the unsteady ramp by pairs of crewmen who moved with practised efficiency. Others Carlos did not recognise from the crew took carefully selected crates from the dockside and carried them to a waiting cart. Other crates they ignored. Eventually the crewmen stood by the stack of crates that remained and Kevin smiled down on them from the deck.

"Good work!" Despite unloading in as close to silence as possible, Kevin seemed not to care that the night air carried his words. He stood up tall, pale face reflecting the moonlight, the whiteness of his skin thrown into stark contrast against cropped dark hair and shadowed eyes. "You will all receive the reward you deserve. Hahaha yes. You two stand guard," Kevin pointed at the two largest men, "and the rest of you come and begin the, um, preparation for our next profitable cargo." 

Carlos saw the two chosen guards rearrange the crates and make themselves as comfortable as they could, hunkered down on the far side out of view of the deck, but visible from the approach to the dock. Even in slumber, they looked imposing and no thief who valued their limbs would dare risk waking them by purloining a crate or two. Ramp removed, the clipper sat calm and dark. Carlos waited until he saw Kevin vanish below and lurched over, still pretending to be passively drunk in case the guards were light sleepers. He needn't have worried, Kevin worked his crew hard and the men were exhausted. Still a little muzzy from the effects of whatever poison Kevin had been using to keep him out of the way, Carlos caught the rope ladder that rose to the main deck and hauled himself up, hoping that the sounds of waves slapping the ship and the creaking of boards settling as the night cooled around them would mask the sound of his fumbling and occasional soft curse.

 _Get the photograph and the money,_ he told himself. _In and out fast, go back to the room and get some sleep and clean water. Retrieve the letter and ask Cecilia where to go to send it. Find another ship. Go home._

Carlos swung a leg then an arm over the rail and pulled himself up. He flopped to the deck and lay there, waiting, listening for any sounds of footsteps or voices that would indicate he had been discovered sneaking back aboard his own ship. There was nothing. Carlos rolled to his front and pushed himself up slowly. Crouching against discovery from anyone looking up from the dock, he made his cautious way to the hatch that led to his berth below. 

The photograph stood against the wall where it had been, calm seas permitting, since his first night. Carlos tucked it inside his shirt, a hissed intake of breath at the sudden cold against his warm skin, and searched his luggage by feel for the money he hoped would still be there. It was. He folded the cash into his notebook and stowed it inside his shirt too, securing his belt tighter. Scuffling footsteps and voices from the passageway made Carlos freeze. 

_"It will take most of tonight to load the new equipment and work on the lower hold to maximise stowage. The upper hold we can complete once we are on our way. We have two lucrative orders to complete, Daniel, Portuguese and English dressed up as Brazilian to ease legal matters, and each without informing the other."_

There was a thud against his door. Carlos, shrank back and shuddered as the voices faded. It was Kevin and his first mate, a man Carlos had seen rarely and suspected of being without emotion. He waited. Perhaps, thought Carlos, if the crew works through the night with Captain Kevin in command, they will sleep after sunup and he could slip away then. Too soon for Carlos to make a decision, the same shuffling footsteps and grating voice returned.

 _"Daniel, look out on deck for our dear guest's return. If he took the, um, sleeping draught I sent over he should be awake before the tide. I will make sure the lower hold space is maximised and the ironwear is in place."_  
_"And if he is not?"_ a gruffer monotone. Kevin's false cheer answered.  
_"Then we will send for him. We cannot sail from Luanda to Rio without our scientist!"_

Carlos stood with his hands over his mouth and his eyes wide open, trembling. He had heard the stories his mama and her friends used to tell. He knew what the next cargo would be. He waited until there was silence from outside his berth and pulled the narrow door. It would not budge. In panic he crashed against it until the wood frame splintered and he burst forth into the passageway, only to stumble into Daniel's capable grip. Kevin laughed.  
"Oh my dear Carlos! I am so happy to find you are aboard already. Perhaps you would prefer to sleep in your laboratory, now we have provided some necessary equipment for your work? Daniel will stand outside to make sure nobody disturbs you. If you prefer," at this, Kevin's smile intensified to a wide grin, pointed teeth yellow and brown against pink lips and pallid skin, pupils dilated so that his eyes appeared as twin dark voids. He emitted a soft giggle, "there is a place for you in the hold."

\----------------------

Cecil once more sent Earl first in case the letter was bad news. There was one crumpled page folded to become its own envelope with their address in Carlos’s best script. It was addressed to both Cecil and Earl. The other letter, in a stiff professional looking envelope, was addressed to Maureen and she stared at it before walking away, leaving it on the console table in the hall. Earl took both back upstairs. He put the stiff, bleached envelope down and held up the crumpled one.  
“Ceece? Read it together?”  
“No,” Cecil shook his head, “you first.”

Earl settled beside Cecil with his back against the pillows and opened the letter. He scanned the script for the signature and smiled.  
“It’s from Carlos!”  
Cecil sat up, unable to help himself. He peered over Earl’s shoulder.

>   
>  Dear Cecil and Earl,
> 
> I hope that you are not too put out by my unexpected absence. Please believe me when I say that I aim to be home as soon as I can arrange it. I will wait until then to describe in person how misfortune has separated us.
> 
> I write this from Lisbon. I hope to be able to retrieve my belongings from the clipper that carried me away and find passage home in a few days.  
>  Cecil, was it you who stowed the photograph in my luggage? Thank you!
> 
> I expect this letter will be opened and read by a number of people before you see it so I will sign off simply,
> 
> Yours,  
>  Carlos  
> 

“He is coming home, Cecil!” Earl wrapped an arm around Cecil and hugged him. “He says so, soon as he can.”  
Cecil leaned against Earl and smiled. He held his hand out for the letter and read over the few words himself.  
"Carlos is coming home! We should prepare a celebration. You could make his favourite food, I will finish all his laundry and change his bedding. Maybe we can find some nice gift in town and Roger could–"  
Earl laughed.  
"Yes, that is a brilliant idea. But Ceece, can we wait until he sets his feet back on this land?"  
"Oh... ooh!" Cecil almost bounced on the bed. "We could travel to meet him off his ship!"  
Earl hugged Cecil and ruffled his hair.  
"Ceece, we have no idea what ship he will be on or even which port to wait at. My sweet, you are going to have to do something very difficult for you."  
"Uh?" Cecil frowned. "What's that?"  
Earl smiled.  
"Be patient."

After a brief tussle on the bed, Earl reminded Cecil that there was a letter for Maureen that she had refused to open. Cecil leapt up and examined the envelope.  
"Hmmm," he sniffed the paper. "I think I know who this is from and what it may concern."  
Earl raised an eyebrow.  
"Care to tell? Open it?"  
"Earl Harlan!" Cecil put on his best mock-shocked expression. "You want me to..." Cecil broke the wax seal, "...open correspondence addressed to a lady of the house?"  
"No," Earl snorted. "I'm growing a beard waiting for you to open Maureen's letter. She doesn't talk like any lady I ever met."  
"Rude!" Cecil punched Earl's arm and made him curse. "She has been very good for Roger. And for Dana. I... like her. Don't you DARE tell her I said that!" 

Cecil unfolded the short letter. His hand flew to his mouth and he cursed in a language Earl did not understand, but the sentiment was clear.  
"What?"  
Earl held his hand out for the letter. Cecil passed it over and watched Earl's frown as he tried to follow the elaborate script.  
"It's Hiram McDaniels. He says that he has secured the blessing of Maureen's parents and intends for Maureen to become his wife. He is coming over tomorrow to escort Maureen to her father's estate. Um... wait here." 

Cecil took the letter and ran along the corridor to Maureen and Dana's room. He hammered on the door. It opened with a very unladylike curse to reveal Maureen, red faced and with Dana in the background. Cecil blurted out his warning.  
"Maureen, you have to go away for a few days."  
"What?" Maureen scowled. "What are you babbling about?"  
Cecil pushed his way into the room. Maureen protested.  
"Hey, you can't force your way into a lady's room! It looks–"  
"Oh come on, it's me." Cecil countered. "It looks like I have something you should read. Do you intend to marry McDaniels?"  
"Hell, no!" Maureen snatched the letter and read it. "Damnation!"  
"Shush!" Dana held a finger to her lips, eyes wide. She pointed to the adjoining door. "Roger!"  
Cecil shrugged. "Our boy can curse in four languages, one of them non verbal."  
Maureen snorted. Dana sighed. Cecil pointed at Maureen.  
"You need not to be here. Can you pack? Take Roger to his grandfather's or something? Even better," Cecil smiled as the idea landed. "You go to Old Pa and tell him what's going on. If Roger is here, McDaniels will not think of looking there."

Dana nodded at Maureen.  
"I don't say this lightly, Maureen my love, but I think Cecil has a point. I'll pack for you."  
Cecil sighed.  
"I'll tell Earl, he can see you get there safely when the sun is up. I'll have to be here to delay McDaniels somehow."  
Maureen gave Cecil a lopsided smile.  
"Want me to fetch the pickled beetroot?"

\--------------------

Carlos, with Daniel's supervision, opened the laboratory and looked around. The space was larger than his cabin and contained a range of glassware, most of which he had specified in advance. A number of items had been added, Carlos recognised medical equipment and a workbench that could double as... No. Carlos rubbed his eyes. It was just a workbench, even if it was longer than usual with drainage channels gouged out of its surface. He could begin work on his first task. Clean water.

Daniel watched closely as Carlos assembled equipment. Carlos snapped at him to get out of the way, or at least be useful and fetch two pails of seawater and some kindling. Daniel shook his head, making his blond ponytail flick from side to side.  
"Kindling? No, no, no. You will not set fire to the ship."  
Carlos huffed and pointed at the deep enamelware tray he had secured to the bench. He did his best to sway Daniel with safety.  
"Look at this, there is a flameproof container and an insulating layer. At worst the bench will discolour from the heat. I will restrict its use to calm seas and I will be present for the entire time from kindling until the embers die."  
Daniel shook his head again.  
"No fires on board, nothing bigger than an oil lamp."  
"Well, I need a source of heat!" Carlos waved his arms. "For _science!_ Doesn't your captain need _science_ on this voyage?" Daniel looked uncertain. Carlos argued his case even more vehemently. "If I am not allowed to practise my profession then I may as well throw myself overboard and take my chances with the fish. Perhaps," there was an unusual gleam in Carlos's eyes as he fixed Daniel with a glare, "if you prevent me from being _productive_ you would be as well to do the same."

"What?" Daniel appeared to shake himself and his cheeks reddened. "What do you need a fire for?"  
"Oh! So many things," Carlos smiled and his face lit up the gloom. "For preparing certain chemical compounds, for sterilising that between use," he pointed at some of the medical equipment. "Are you familiar with the work of Pasteur, Semmelweiss and the up and coming Lister? No? You want me to kill half the souls on board with infection because of _your ignorance_ when I am clearly expected to effect _relief_ from sickness and injury?"  
Daniel set his face and nodded once. He called a crewman and directed him to secure a stock of fuel. With a shout after the seaman, Carlos added an order for saltpetre and metal gauze. The thought of the ship and its captain consumed by conflagration whilst empty in port attracted Carlos greatly, but he would not take risk at sea.

Carlos got to work assembling copperware and securing it with clamps, testing its stability carefully before moving on to the next section of his fabrication. Daniel stood in the doorway. Carlos pointed to the little porthole that allowed insufficient light to illuminate the laboratory even at midday.  
"Can that be made to open? I need ventilation or I will suffocate in here."  
Daniel shook his head once more.  
"It is far more important to keep the sea out than to let the air in. If you need ventilation, open the door."  
Carlos shrugged and turned away to hide his disappointment. Surely, he thought, anyone passing would recognise what he was making. Before Carlos had quite finished setting up his distillation apparatus, a crewman dumped a small sack of kindling and offcuts of wood on the floor.  
"More in the captain's quarters," the man leered. "He says ask nice when you want some. Daniel, sir?" Daniel turned his cold blue eyes on the crewman. "Um, Captain asks that you attend him in his quarters on... um, a private matter. I am to take over guard duty. Sir."  
Daniel's face betrayed nothing.  
"Very well. Do not let our scientist anywhere other than here, his own berth or the hold. He may not leave the ship."  
The crewman nodded his understanding and Daniel walked away.

Carlos finished attaching and securing the last piece, a copper condenser vessel and delivery tube. He stifled his desire to try it out immediately, preferring not to be watched. He turned to the crewman.  
"What did Daniel want me to see in the hold?"  
The crewman smiled, a knowing, sly look. Carlos regretted asking.  
"Best if you see for yourself. Have a good poke around down there and Captain Kevin will have a question or two for you after. This way."  
Carlos had no choice but to accompany the crewman down below, the man had a grip of iron. The upper hold had been re-loaded with the crates Kevin described as _manufactured goods._ The trapdoor to the lower hold gaped open.  
"Wait," the crewman lit an oil lamp and hung it from a hook, then placed a hand on Carlos's lower back, giving him a steady push that threatened to become force. "Down there, you first, easy and I'll give you the lamp."  
The lower hold was dark and damp. Aware of the implied threat, Carlos dropped down and lifted his hand for the lamp. He turned and waited for his eyes to adjust. Above him the door thumped shut and he heard the bolts clunk into place. He stood and pushed with one hand, then set the lamp down and pushed with both hands, but the hold remained his prison. 

Carlos felt neither panic nor surprise. He knew that Kevin wanted or needed him, he suspected that he would be imprisoned aboard _The Bluffs_ until they were too far from shore to risk a dive from the deck. Carlos raised the lamp to the ceiling and stared in horror at the modified hold. Low on the walls, close together, iron manacles on short chains reflected yellow lamplight. A low, raised and slotted platform skirted the space and more ironmongery decorated the deck floor at the inner rim. In a minimal nod to the idea of sanitation, the narrow central space contained several buckets. Carlos counted. He counted again. He thought of the deck above this one that would also be fitted out to carry people in squalid conditions against their will. 

He decided he had to prevent this atrocity. Somehow. This hold would not be filled.

\------------------

Carlos woke in pitch dark with a pain in his shoulder and tingling in his arm. He winced and sat up as the swaying motion of the boards and the sound of the second bolt being drawn above him made him aware of his predicament. He looked up at the square of amber, flickering light above. A face appeared, a grin that made Carlos's hairs stand on end and a bright, cheerful voice used to making the indefensible sound like reason.  
"Why, my Carlos. What are you doing down here in the dark? Come up, come up into the light. Here, let me guide you." A hand snaked down to Carlos. Kevin giggled. "The crewman who shut you down here has been severely punished for misinterpreting my orders."  
Carlos rubbed feeling back into his arm and climbed up the wooden ladder, accepting Kevin's help to scramble clear of the opening. Carlos shook his head.  
"Kevin, there must be a different cargo you could carry, there–"  
"Oh!" Kevin shook his head. "Oh Carlos, save this discussion for after lunch like the civilised creature you are. Come to my quarters and I will make your options in this venture quite clear."

Carlos followed Kevin up to the Captain's quarters and looked out over the sea. A cry and a splash reached his ears. Carlos whirled and pointed.  
"Man overboard! Kevin?"  
Kevin shrugged.  
"Waste of time to go back for Shaun. He was dead before he hit the water. I told you I punished him, didn't I? Sit!" Kevin pointed to the small oval table. "Eat. Look." Kevin spooned out a helping of some yellow rice and beans dish for himself and began eating. Carlos did the same but ignored the glasses of water and wine in front of him. Kevin huffed out a laugh. "Not thirsty after your unfortunate stay down below? It gets so hot down there. I wonder they can stand it, but they are hardy people used to the heat I suppose. A bit like you."  
Carlos stared, the sweet taste of the spiced rice suddenly cloying. He swallowed and almost choked.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Oh come, Carlos my dear man. You are a scientist, surely you can see that you align more closely with our _passengers_ than our pale and disciplined crew?"  
Carlos gripped the armrest of his chair.  
"What, exactly, are you saying, Kevin?"  
Kevin smiled and leaned back, pouring himself wine from the bottle.  
"Only that if you are not able to make yourself useful by fulfilling the post of ship surgeon, then we will find profit in you by other means. I know a successful Portuguese nobleman in Rio who would dearly love to _acquire_ such an educated, _handsome_ savage as you. Why, your teeth alone would..." Kevin's voice sharpened and he leaned forward. "Play by my rules and you may sail home with me carrying a hold full of sugar and coffee back to Plymouth in a few months and I will pay you your share minus the advance I gave you. Rebel, and you will not know your own name by the time we reach The Americas."  
Carlos felt heat rise and wondered if his tremor was visible. He felt sick. Knowing the answer, it was such an unlikely notion, he demanded information of his captor anyway.  
"Did... did Rochelle set this up? Was Rochelle involved in planning this?"  
Kevin looked confused.  
"Who? No. Someone tried to hire my ship and crew for some pointless expedition. But since the company that employed me ceased this trade I choose to take every opportunity for profit alone. Imagine my delight when, my ship surgeon having been lifted into the bosom of our smiling god, you arrived to take his place!"

Carlos excused himself and returned to his berth. The door frame had been mended. He closed himself off, placed the notebook and photograph still inside his shirt back in their places, and pressed his knuckles into his eyes. He opened them to see Earl and Cecil smiling at each other. Carlos lifted the picture, thought of his lovers looking after one another and their son back home, and knew he had to find a way back to them. And Kevin would never let him go, Carlos felt that like he felt the dull ache in his shoulder. 

During the voyage, Carlos attended his laboratory. He had three purposes: use his still to make drinking water for himself, gather the charcoal from his small firepit and grind it finely with saltpetre and sulfur in the correct proportions judged by an adjustable balance he fashioned himself, and attend to sickness within the crew. Kevin insisted on twice-daily reports on Carlos's activities. Carlos explained his still as a means of purifying water, unable to pretend it was anything other, and Kevin was entranced. The captain heaped praise on Carlos and offered him inducement to become a permanent crew member, second mate, much to Daniel's disgust. Kevin asked Carlos if his still could be made bigger, big enough to provide for the whole crew. 

Carlos thought, on the point of shaking his head and explaining that the danger of having a larger firepit in an enclosed area would be too great, he paused and smiled.  
"Kevin, if you want a larger capacity desalinator, then of course I will endeavour to make it happen. Where would you like me to build it? When we stop, will there be iron or copperware? Skilled metalworkers?"  
Kevin smiled and clapped his hands.  
"Maybe, maybe not, but you can plan. Build whatever you can and give Daniel your specifications for whatever we do not yet have. there are certainly copper mines in The Americas, ha! I know that for certain. Imagine not having to carry fresh water! You can use the crew quarters. They won't mind sleeping on deck in good weather and they will be on duty during bad.”

Daniel took Carlos to the crew quarters. Carlos planned with every step. Below him was the upper hold. Through all decks to the hull where it slotted into place was a mast, one of the three towering columns that supported the sails and gave the ship legendary speed.  
"This is perfect, thank you Daniel. I would like to work in private, if I may. I need to concentrate on my complicated equations and calculations so that I ensure the safety of the ship. You know, from fire."  
Daniel poked Carlos in the chest.  
"You may have fooled Kevin with your smile and your hair and your... your... _interesting_ looks, but I am immune. Kevin is mine. Watch your step."  
Daniel glowered at Carlos and left him to work. Carlos looked at the mast again and grinned.

It took Carlos most of a day to produce a reasonable drawing of what he proposed to build and another to work on a plausible-looking firepit. He gave Daniel a sketch of a squat boiler with a tapered arm coming off at an angle, a foot pump to assist cooling sea water to flow through pipes around the condenser, and a collecting vessel. While still running his small desalinator for safe drinking water, Carlos was still producing charcoal to mix with sulfur and saltpetre and stow in bags fashioned from the sacking the kindling came in. All he needed was a means of ignition that did not involve him being aboard.


	32. Another word for Scientist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for character death

A half hour after a grey dawn, Maureen stood inside Pa Harlan's cottage. Will nodded and shuffled through to the back kitchen, waving at Maureen to follow as Earl called his goodbye and returned to the manor. Will looked Maureen up and down then set about heating water for tea.  
"Ye here for a while, lass? Ye're welcome as a Harlan."  
"What do you mean?" Maureen frowned. "I mean, thank you, but..."  
Will laughed, a rasp behind his usual softness.  
"Oh now, my Earl brings me the young lady who's been a mam to his boy, at dawn and asks me to shelter her? Did you marry in the old fashioned way?"  
"What! No!" Maureen gaped. "You think I'm... I'm..."  
"Are ye not, now?"  
"No! I'm..." she smiled and laughed. "Please, I am not carrying you a grandchild and I am not marrying Earl. I am avoiding marrying McDaniels."

Will almost dropped the china cup in his hand. It clattered onto the table and Mauren steadied it.  
"In that case, ye're welcome as long as ye like. McDaniels is no friend o' the Harlans." Will smiled and his blue eyes sparkled for a moment. "I'd have been surprised if our Earl had chosen a bride over Cecil. Cecil's good for him, in his own way. Lightens him up."  
Maureen put her hand on Will's shoulder and got up to finish making tea. Will stopped her.  
"Now lass, ye'll no shame me by working when ye're a guest, even if ye're not... Sit yersel' down and Ah'll see what Earl's put in yon basket he brought us."

Maureen sat and watched Will fill the teapot then rummage in the basket. His face brightened when he brought out bread, cake, cheese, eggs and a wobbly drawing of the stone circle. He pinned it to the wall along with other drawings Roger had proudly presented to his grandfather. Will pointed at the wall.  
"He's a good lad, the youngster."  
Maureen smiled. "He's clever."  
"Aye," Will nodded. "Ah'm glad he picked up his words like Earl didn't. He manages well enough but Roger might do better with learnin' and Sir Carlos behind 'im."  
"Earl?" Maureen looked in surprise at Will. "I've seen Earl read."  
"Have ye now. Good for you." Will winked.  
Maureen thought of the times she had seen Earl pore over printed or written words, how Cecil or Roger often read beside him and how new recipes made him scowl and complain that there was nothing wrong with traditional cooking and on a first try he often asked Roger to read out the recipe while he gathered ingredients and combined them.  
Will laughed as realisation dawned on Maureen's face.  
"Ha! He says the words dance on the page and it slows 'im down. That must be quite a sight, eh?" He poured tea for them both. "Come then, you bring anything you might read to me? My eyesight's not up to small print these days."

Will, thought Maureen as she read aloud from one of Cecil's cast-off novels, looked old for his years although she realised she had no idea how many years he really had. She guessed Earl must be older than he looked, maybe thirty given the stories Cecil told, although he could pass for a decade younger. Will could be anywhere over fifty although she thought he was much older. Today he looked worn, a grey pallor to his skin and a slight sheen on his forehead. He sat heavily, rubbing his shoulder and smiling through gasped breaths. When he spoke, it was a few words at a time.  
"Ah, bones. Ache today. Mebbe. Ah'll let ye. Help with the. Cottage. After all."

With the effort of producing words, Will slid off his stool and lay on his side on the tiled floor. Maureen leapt up and helped him get comfortable.  
"Pa Harlan? Will?" Will's eyes opened and he smiled. "I'll fetch Earl. You stay here."  
Will frowned, nodded and smiled again.  
"Aye. Tell 'im. Tell 'im. Ah c'n see th'm a'."  
Maureen stroked Will's clammy forehead, picked up her skirt over one arm and ran for the manor. 

She did not have to run far before she met Earl waking fast and Roger running towards her.  
"Felt it," said Earl. "Roger too. Told Cecil we had to come up. Is he...?"  
"No," Maureen said, shaking her head. "I'll take the lad, you run on."  
Earl nodded. Maureen took Roger's hand and they set off after Earl. When Maureen and Roger caught up, Earl was sitting on the floor cradling Will, and Will was mumbling something. Earl nodded and smiled.  
"I'll carry you this time, Pa. No argument."  
Will breathed out a laugh and put his arms around his son's neck. Earl lifted him and Maureen noticed how frail Pa Harlan looked beside Earl. Earl bit his lip and gave Maureen a watery smile.  
"None o' that, now." Will found the energy to admonish Earl. Earl sniffed once and forced a grin.  
"Fine. Maureen, will ye look after the place while Roger an' Ah take Pa up t' the stone circle for some fresh air?"  
Maureen opened her mouth in protest but closed it at the sight of Earl's grim expression. She nodded, and Will left his cottage in his son's arms, with his grandson racing on ahead. Maureen looked around for something useful to do.

The walk up to the circle was not physically difficult, Earl was strong and Pa was light. Earl's slowed pace came from reluctance to accept what Pa was telling him with broken phrases and gasping breaths. At last they crested the hill. Roger was there already, moving from stone to stone, touching each one and giggling.  
"Woke them up for you, grandpa. They miss you."  
"Roger loves his stories." Earl laughed but sobered quickly. "Should he be here? I can send him–"  
"Yes. He be. Longs. Here." 

Will pointed to one of the stones. Earl set him down on the grass, warmed and dried by the autumn sun. A few golden leaves caught in the breeze whirled around here and there in eddies at the base of the stones, and long shadows showed that summer was over. Still, bees buzzed in white clover and iridescent blue damselflies darted and hovered. Roger joyfully pointed out everything that caught his interest, babbling about birds and flowers and insects. Will wheezed. Earl looked down in alarm at his Pa's head in his lap but Will was laughing.  
"Ye. learn. from. lad." Will's laboured breathing made his syllables difficult to hear. "See joy."

Years later, Earl was still not clear on what happened next.

\--------------

It was the yelling that alerted Carlos to the fact they had dropped anchor. He glanced over his handywork and nodded. It was good enough. All he had to do was let a taper burn to the deck and set off the trail of powder that he would brush into the carved channels that wound their way to the bags packed around the mast, and get off the ship. By his best estimate with trial burnings of short trails, he would have about four minutes. Even if a crewman discovered the lit fuse, the channels would protect the gunpowder from being kicked out. He had fended off enquiries into his work many times, leading Kevin to believe the channels were designed for pipework to cool the water from the condenser, and the bags around the mast were filled only with charcoal as insulation from the noxious air that would soon rise up from below. 

Carlos climbed up on deck, not ready to set his fuse while so many curious crewmen were still on board. Kevin stood on deck, smiling and nodding as Daniel barked orders for guarding the ship while most of the crew enjoyed a night and a day on land. Once the crewmen were dismissed, Kevin called to Carlos, a smile on his face and his arms out as if seeking an embrace. Carlos caught the edge of Daniel's glare.  
"My dear Carlos, so good to see you up on deck. Have you made significant progress on my water machine?"  
Carlos choked back a protest that it was not Kevin's design, this was not the time to pick a quarrel.  
"Yes, if Daniel can obtain the necessary parts I can build it while we are in port. Da–"  
"Daniel will remain aboard on first watch. You will come ashore with me instead."  
Kevin took Carlos by the arm and guided him to the rope ladder that hung down over the end of a long pontoon that led to the beach. Carlos frowned in confusion at the deserted bay.  
"I thought you intended to sail to Luanda? I expected–"  
Kevin laughed.  
"Oh Carlos, no. My trade would not be profitable there. No, I have a more... private business venture. You'll see. Loading and unloading will take longer, but what's a couple of days when faced with such natural beauty?"

Carlos did not like the way Kevin watched him when he spoke. He turned to face the shore and shimmied down the rope ladder, marched as smartly as he dared along the less than steady pontoon and onto the sand. Kevin followed close behind. On land, Carlos shook Kevin's hand from his shoulder and moved up the beach to the firmer sands where grasses held the grains steady. A click to his left made Carlos turn. He cried out, raising his hands to shoulder height at the sight of an old but serviceable flintlock pistol in the hands of a stranger just beyond the line of thickening undergrowth and curving palms.

Kevin laughed.  
"Oh do put that away, brother! Carlos is a _scientist_ and no threat to your little flock. I am here to speak with the master."  
The man flinched at the sound of Kevin's voice and, for just a second, Carlos wondered if he was about to witness a murder. The pistol was lowered, more by gravity and uncertainty than conscious design and the man nodded. Kevin made for a gap in the vegetation off to his right. Carlos made to follow, but the man shouted _NO!_  
Carlos froze. Kevin shrugged.  
"Suit yourself, brother." Kevin smiled at Carlos. "I will leave you in the brother's care while I attend to business." He chuckled. "Don't run off, now, you are not the top of the food chain in these lands!"

The man kept his firearm pointed at Carlos while Kevin departed.  
"Who are you and what business do you have with _that_ ungodly devil?"  
Carlos, hands once more raised, spoke quickly and quietly.  
"I am a scientist. I have been forced into Kevin's service and I..." Carlos shook his head. Exhaustion and fear formed his thoughts. "I... I just want to go home. I miss Cecil and Earl and.... everyone and..."  
The man put his pistol away.  
"Is Kevin your master?"  
Carlos's head shot up.  
"What? No! He has threatened, I have seen the hold and..."  
"Hush, come, quietly and quickly."  
The man grabbed Carlos's arm and pulled him into the cover of the jungle.

Carlos had no idea of how far they traveled. There was no obvious path but the man seemed confident of his direction. Carlos soon found himself sweating in the southern Spring heat, waving away clouds of black flies that threatened to settle on his face and tormented his ears. After some indeterminate amount of time, they came out into a small clearing that contained a shelter.  
"Welcome to my home," the man nodded grimly, "one of them. Sit and tell me your story. The abomination called you Carlos, is that your real name?"  
Carlos nodded.  
"Yes, I am Carlos and I am a scientist. I have been held captive with trickery and threats and... and..."  
"Oh!" The man made the sign of the cross and uttered a short blessing. "I am sorry for your hardship. You are not in this business?"  
"No!" Carlos almost spat the word out. "I aim to stop him."  
The man let out a whoop and raised his head to the sky.  
"Thank you God!" He laughed. "I pray daily for help and You send me a madman!"  
Carlos reached over and gripped the man's forearms with both hands. The man jumped, startled.  
"I am not mad." Carlos stared into the man's brown eyes, set under thick eyebrows in a tanned, leathery face over a dark beard. "I have a plan. Will you help me?"  
The man cleared his throat but did not try to wrest his arms from Carlos's grip. He stared back, as if daring Carlos to blink first.  
"Tell me more."

Carlos released his grip but remained leaning forward, close to the man's ear. He spoke in a conspiratorial murmur.  
"How do I know you are not also in league with them? You look like one of the crewmen."  
"Carlos, I am a man of God. There are some who justify their actions by careful misinterpretation of scripture, but I am not one of those hypocrites. I believe that we are all created equal in God's eyes, and what God's eyes see we should strive to emulate. One soul may neither own another nor have power of life and death over them. Choose to believe me or not, I have no proof but my words."  
"What is your name?"  
"Giacomo."  
"Very well, Giacomo. I need to get back aboard _The Bluffs_ and set a fuse to the black powder I have been manufacturing in secret. I calculate the resulting fire should bring down the mizzenmast. If few enough crew are aboard and the fire takes, the results may be severe. Certainly enough to prevent the ship from a voyage across the Atlantic."

Giacomo grinned and raised his head and his hands to the heavens.  
"Thank you, God, for bringing to me this glorious madman."  
He looked at Carlos, eyebrows low and a furrow between.  
"How long do you need? I can delay boarding, I will be made to baptise every heathen soul and I can take my time with liturgy. Will you be able to get off the ship? How will this plan of yours work? What if–"  
Carlos sat back with his hands over his ears, shaking his head.  
"No, Giacomo, I can't bear this. It has to work, you see that? I have to get free of Kevin and find my way home to Cecil."  
"You could, you know, just go. If you asked, I would find you a guide willing to take you to Luanda and you could find passage to Lisbon. You could abandon this insane plot of yours and save yourself."  
Giacomo waited for Carlos to agree and beg for his help. Carlos took several deep breaths.  
"No. I swore to myself, I must try or I will think of that hold and the people suffering in it for the rest of my life."  
Giacomo nodded.  
"Good. I will take you back to the beach where Kevin will no doubt be salivating over his projected profits. Look for whatever opportunity God provides, I will do what I can here to prepare."

\---------------

Cecil paced the hallway with Maureen pacing after him.  
"Please," she snapped. "I am telling you what I saw. I don't believe it either, but I swear it happened as I described."  
"It's not possible, Maureen!" Cecil halted, whirled to face Maureen and yelled. "People don't just... disappear!"  
"I SAW IT HAPPEN!" Maureen's hands found her head. "I ran back to tell you. Cecil, I am as confused as you are, and as frightened. It was... It was something inhuman!"  
Dana clattered downstairs to investigate the commotion.  
"Maureen! You should, not be back here, McDaniels only just left when Cecil told him you had eloped with one of the tenant farmers! What if he comes back?"  
"Dana! Oh!" Maureen embraced Dana, leaning her head on Dana's shoulder and stifling back a sob. "I saw... the Harlans taken. At the stone circle. All three, Old Pa, Earl and Roger. They're gone, Dana."  
"Maureen?" Dana rubbed Maureen's back. "Gone where? Oh come and tell me." Dana glared at Cecil. "You too, I suppose. Parlour?"  
Cecil shook his head.  
"Laboratory."

Cecil perched on the edge of the upholstered chair. Maureen sat on the sofa and Dana sat beside her. Maureen half turned to face Dana, and Dana took her hands.  
"Tell me what you saw."  
Cecil opened his mouth but Dana's look closed it.  
"Come on, Maureen, it's me you're talking to."  
"I went to Pa's cottage this morning. After Earl left we read and drank tea and... Pa took ill. I ran back to get Earl but he was already halfway there with Roger. Pa asked to be carried up to the stones. Earl took him with Roger. I stayed to see to the cottage, Pa's not been looking after it so well lately, you know?"  
Dana nodded and squeezed Maureen's hands.  
"What happened, Maureen?"  
"After a while I thought I'd go see if they needed anything. I packed some sandwiches and walked up there. I saw... Dana, I swear I am telling the truth! I saw..." Maureen stopped to wipe her face on the embroidered handkerchief Dana offered her. "I saw shapes, almost translucent, grey, human-like shapes came out of the stones, or between the stones, I'm not sure. Will was sitting up looking strong, pointing and calling out for someone called Cathy. Roger was laughing and dancing with two or three shapes around him. Earl looked... Earl looked so happy! Then the shapes surrounded Earl and Will and Roger, thickened around them and vanished like the wind blew them away, only there was no wind and no sound. I ran up there, yelling for Roger, but they were gone!"

Dana embraced Maureen. She spoke to Cecil over Maureen's shoulder.  
"You know, don't you? You know the truth. You simply don't want it to be true."  
Cecil covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forward. Dana murmured something to Maureen, who rose and left the room. On her way out, Dana patted Cecil's shoulder gently.  
"I'm sorry for your loss, Cecil. Sometimes people come back. Talk to Josie."

\---------------

Sure enough, Kevin was pacing the strand and smiling to himself. Carlos walked over.  
"Carlos! I saw the most amazing thing. The master here has a lepoard the colour of coal roaming his private grounds! It is a glorious beast. I am quite taken by it. I think... no, I am _sure_ I want to take it back to Lorena as a gift for her most loyal service."  
Carlos shuddered.  
"You intend to bring a caged leopard on board?"  
"Haha, no, silly, I intend to bring a leopard _skin_ on board. Haha, live leopard... hmmm, perhaps it would be entertaining... no. Alas," Kevin sighed, "thank you for the suggestion, Carlos, but that would be wholly impractical and might cause an unfortunate loss of profit."

Carlos felt nauseous as they walked up to the ship. Kevin made Carlos climb first then boarded once he saw Daniel wave.  
"I have no doubt you have science to attend to?" Kevin dismissed Carlos with a wave. Carlos moved off slowly, listening. "Daniel, I have a task for you in darkness, take Carlos to help."  
"Ugh, must I? Can I not be trusted to carry out tasks–"  
"Not this task. Come to my berth and I will explain what I want from you."  
Carlos thought he could almost hear Daniel's heart beat faster. His nausea intensified.  
Below deck, Carlos used what remained of the natural light to brush black powder into the channels on the wooden floor, checking and double checking that there were no gaps.

Before dawn, Daniel banged on Carlos's berth door and yelled at him to make ready. Carlos stuffed his photograph, notebook and money into a waxed bag, folded it over and stuffed it inside his shirt. He yelled at Daniel that he had something to attend to first, but Daniel had already gone up on deck. Carlos checked his fuse, stacked what remained of his kindling around the mast, set a lit wax taper into a hole drilled in the floor at the end of the fuse trail so that when the taper burned down it would ignite a small pyramid of black powder, and closed the door. 

"Hurry up," Daniel scowled. "I will explain what you are here for on the move. Quickly, we have to be at the master's villa before his household wakes."  
Carlos obeyed without hesitation. He shimmied down the rope ladder and marched quickly up the pontoon to the beach, with Daniel trailing behind. Carlos turned, it looked like he was checking on Daniel's progress, but he was examining the ship. It was too soon, he told himself, but the fear that his scheme had been interrupted was obvious on his face.  
"What are you pouting at," Daniel snapped. "Come on, you are bait while I shoot that stupid cat. Can you run?"  
Carlos stared in disbelief.  
"Faster than a leopard? No!"  
"Thought not," Daniel smirked, "better pray I don't miss."

Carlos walked with Daniel behind, Daniel's rifle occasionally jabbing his back. The dense jungle hid the beach. They walked along a cleared but winding path until they reached a gate. It was locked. Daniel pointed up, Carlos looked and nodded. The wall around the villa's grounds was easily twelve feet high but Carlos climbed with the aid of Daniel and an overhanging tree. He dropped down with a soft _oof!_ on the other side. Daniel stood by the gate, rifle poking through between the bars.  
"Make a noise!" Daniel hissed.  
Carlos walked over to the gates and clanged them. The men stood, listening to the chirrups and howls and terrified squawks of the jungle and blood rushing in their own ears. Carlos giggled and unlocked the gate from inside.  
"I suppose they are not concerned with security if they have a pet panther."  
Daniel slipped inside the gate. Carlos closed it quietly and walked around the perimeter, slowly. Daniel, impatient, pushed ahead. Carlos, observant and familiar with the leopard's South American cousins, inched backwards. A low snarl from the shrubbery alerted them to the presence of Daniel's target. Daniel raised his rifle, but Carlos turned and fled. By the time Carlos reached the gate, and safety, Daniel lay on the ground with a black shape pinning him down. Carlos crouched behind the safety of the wall, covered his ears and closed his eyes.

Carlos sensed a commotion from the villa. He ran, crashing through the vegetation until he was out of sight. By chance he stumbled into another clearing. Giacomo looked up in surprise.  
"Carlos! You made it!"  
"What are you doing?"  
"Preparing for baptism. The master's private guards will bring the unfortunates here, I will pray with them and baptise them, then they will be marched to the ship." Giacomo gripped Carlos's hands. "Did... did you do it? Did it work?"  
"Yes," Carlos nodded, "I don't know!"  
Giacomo grinned and beckoned to Carlos. They walked a route chosen by Giacomo to within sight of the bay.  
"Stay back, see but don't be seen."

Giacomo's words were unnecessary. Carlos watched as crewmen either stood around to see the show or ran with inadequate buckets of seawater to douse the burning ship. The mizzenmast lay broken and charred, and clouds of black smoke belched from a hole in the deck. _The Bluffs_ listed over in the shallows. In the midst of the confusion, Carlos saw Kevin cling to a rail on the deck. Carlos kept his eyes on Kevin as the ship let out a groan of stressed timber, listed far enough to admit the sea, and slipped below the water.  
Giacomo shrugged.  
"At least the fire's out now. Come on."

Giacomo led Carlos to another enclosed area. It was unguarded, Giacomo said because there had been an intruder at the villa. Carlos said nothing. Giacomo entered the enclosure and Carlos almost choked on fetid air. On the bare ground, bound ankle to wrist, sat people. Giacomo called, a sound Carlos did not recognise, and a group of half a dozen warriors appeared, tall and muscular with elaborate masks hiding all or parts of their faces. Giacomo exchanged a few words with one of them and they set about freeing the prisoners from their restraints. A few at a time, the masked giants led the captives away.

Once the last group had been freed, Carlos and Giacomo slipped back into the cover of the jungle. Giacomo led Carlos further this time, to a different place, a settlement with a few permanent structures. Giacomo slapped Carlos on the back.  
"Welcome to my church! Quite the cathedral, eh?"  
Carlos stared.  
"You're a missionary? Why do you work with this person you call the master?"  
Giacomo scratched his head.  
"He made a donation to the monastery. I was sent. I think," Giacomo smiled ruefully, "it was a punishment for being too literal with the commandment to love thy neighbour."  
"What do you mean?" Carlos covered his mouth and laughed at Giacomo's wink. "Oh!"  
"Giacomo smiled. "If I baptise whoever he tells me to baptise, he leaves me alone. I like it here, although I liked _Firenze_ more."

Carlos frowned.  
"Wait, you are Brother Giacomo, from Florence?"  
"Yes," the priest nodded. "I trained there. I would have given up but something happened to renew my faith. A heartfelt prayer to save another was answered. Come, you'll be safe here for now. Doug and Aleesha will help you to Luanda in a few days, once they have made sure the souls you saved are safely away."  
"Will they go home?" Carlos asked. Giacomo stared, open mouthed.  
"Carlos, their village will be _gone._ There will be nothing left for them but embers and bones and nightmares. No, the Masked Warriors will help them to make a new place, deep in the forest and far from the colonies.

Carlos looked away, embarrassed by his ignorance. Giacomo punched his arm.  
"So why were you so interested that I am Brother Giacomo from Florence?"  
Carlos smiled.  
"I heard a story about a novice Brother Giacomo from Florence once. Look," Carlos retrieved the waxed bag from his shirt and took out the photograph, smiling at the image of Cecil and Earl, and handed it to Giacomo. "That is Cecil and Earl. They will be wondering where I am."  
Giacomo closed his eyes and laughed.  
"God I praise thee and thank thee that he is safe!"  
Carlos smiled.  
"My Cecil was your Cecil? Yes?"  
Giacomo grinned.  
"He stayed with us in Florence. I considered leaving my calling for him. I would have gone _anywhere_ with him. Carlos, I loved Cecil, I love my memory of Cecil. The Abbot insisted that our friendship was steeped in sin. But how could it be a sin to love someone?" Carlos offered Giacomo his arm, Giacomo accepted a hug. "We were put in the cells for... um... something indiscreet. The Abbott paid for my release but he would not pay for Cecil, said he'd get what he deserved and called him a thief and worse. I prayed all night and in the morning Cecil's cell was empty. I knew then that I had chosen the right path and that our love held no sin."

Giacomo gave the photograph back to Carlos. Carlos smiled.  
"Come back with me."  
"Thank you, but no." Giacomo laughed. "This is my home and my calling. Doug and Aleesha will tell stories for years about the man who burned down a ship. Cecil made a good choice in you, you are a hero."  
"No," Carlos grinned. "I am a _scientist."_


	33. Home thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it _has_ been a while, hasn't it!  
> 

Carlos dozed in Giacomo's cabin, on a pallet bed to raise him from the dirt floor. Netting covered the doorway and the windows yet there was a persistent cacophony of buzzing and chirruping cut short as one or other of them extinguished the sound with a sharp _slap_ and a groaned curse, only for the drone to start up again seconds later. Outside the cabin, the rainforest screeched and howled with the racket of survival. Cries truncated suddenly as their owners ate or were eaten, breathy roars and barks gave away the territorial claims of larger mammals, and the _yipyipyip_ of some group of social creatures navigating the canopy above and rustlng through the foliage kept Carlos from true sleep. He tossed and turned. He heard Giacomo sigh and reach out. A hand rested on his shoulder.

"Hah, you get used to this after a while. The Masked Army are nomads, they're on the plains this season. It's quieter up at their camp." Giacomo slapped at another invading mosquito. "And drier so there are fewer tiny things that bite. Ha. Plenty of big things that bite but they all steer clear of Doug and his tribe. I'll take you there when it's light."  
Carlos patted Giacomo's hand. Giacomo clasped Carlos's fingers in his. Carlos smiled and yawned.  
"This sounds like a place I lived long ago."  
"Oh?" Giacomo said. "Then you can tell me about it, since we are both awake."

Carlos found Giacomo to be easy company. The priest asked questions that allowed Carlos to talk freely about his past experiences. Of course, they discussed Cecil.  
"Cecil," Carlos remarked, "belongs at the manor. He always seems to know where he is needed and there he is. It must be reassuring to know that you are in the right place, that you belong somewhere."  
Giacomo smiled in the dark and squezed Carlos's hand.  
"Yes. I did not belong in Florence, not really. Dressing up for Mass, being polite to patrons, kissing the bishop's ring."  
Carlos sniggered and extinguished yet another mosquito.

Carlos woke because Giacomo was shaking him and holding out a bowl of something grey and gelatinous.  
"Cassava porridge. It doesn't taste of much but it'll fill you up. There's plantain fried in palm oil almost ready, and I have some kola nut to keep us going until we find food and make camp. We're lucky the rains have not yet arrived. Better to go soon, could be today if we're unlucky and travelling in the wet season is difficult. Rivers appear wherever God or the Devil wills."

Carlos thanked Giacomo and ate, grateful to have something other than weevil-infested ship's biscuit and water for sustenance. He helped clean up and offered to carry any equipment or supplies. Giacomo laughed.  
"No need. There is little worth carrying. Look around you, man! I have shelters we can use along my favourite routes inland and food... well." Giacomo waved at the lush vegetation. "We will not struggle until we reach the high plains and there we will find friends to help us."

Carlos followed Giacomo through the rainforest for three days, climbing higher and higher up from the coast, sleeping in Giacomo's campsites, eating cassava porridge and wild fruit. He often itched to take out his notebook and document the wildlife he saw. Giacomo indulged Carlos in this, rested from their arduous route while Carlos drew with charcoal saved from their small fires and described in flowing scientific prose the numerous beetles and butterflies that were commonplace to the missionary. Giacomo laughed when Carlos became almost poetic over the progress of a dung beetle across the forest floor, pushing its sphere of collected excrement backwards through the leaf litter. Carlos explained in great detail to Giacomo how no material, however humble, ever went to waste in nature.

"Carlos the Scientist, you teach me to have joy in God's simplest creations!" He smiled as the beetle disappeared under cover of the leaf litter. "You show me wonders I have seen but never bothered to notice. I praise God for such variety of life," Giacomo climbed a short way up a nearby tree and Carlos heard a couple of dull _thud_ sounds, "and such abundance of edible fruits. If only He had made the wild pigs slower we would feast every day."  
Carlos laughed.  
"I would very much like to remain here a while and collect scientific observations about the interdependence of the life I see, and how the shape and composition of the terrain affects the species that survive here. I see many similarities with the species I documented thousands of miles west of here, and yet so many differences. It is as if these lands were once joined but somehow floated apart and communities that were once one diverged along different paths."  
"Ah? You would dare to explain creation?" Giacomo raised his eyebrows and bit into his fruit, sucking the sour-sweet juice and licking his lips. "What about Cecil and Earl waiting for you at home?"  
"Perhaps you could send a letter for me, if I write it?" Carlos screwed up his face at the taste of the fruit. "They know I am a scientist. They will understand. And they have each other."  
Giacomo thought many things and said none of them. 

By the end of the next day the forest thinned out to scrubby woodland inhabited by wild pigs and skinny fowl that squawked in alarm and ran for cover at the sight of humans. Soon Carlos and Giacomo were met by a tall, graceful masked figure with skin that carried the cool sheen of polished ebony. Giacomo pointed to Carlos and exchanged a few words with the warrior then turned back to Carlos and smiled.  
"This is Doug. He and Aleesha will keep you safe while you do science, and they will take you to Luanda when you are ready to go home. Tonight we are their guests. You can write your letter and tomorrow I will see that it is sent." 

\-------------

Maureen sat back and narrowed her eyes. Leann stared back.  
"So you want to know my sources?"  
Maureen nodded.  
"I can't follow up on your information unless I am sure it can be trusted. Leann–"  
"TRUSTED!" Leann jerked forward in her chair, face reddening. "Of course it can be trusted! I am a _news_ reporter, not a _liar_ who makes up titillating half-facts about community figures just to sell more newspapers."  
"No, no!" Maureen held both hands out, palms down. "That is not what I meant at all! I trust _you_ but, please, if you can tell me who your contact in Lisbon is, or more about how they know of Carlos, then I can make a decision about what to do next. He's been missing almost two months now."

Leann seemed soothed by Maureen's explanation although she still bristled. Dana calmed the situation with tea and scones. Leann bit into one and frowned at it.  
"This is good. One of Carlsberg's?"  
Dana nodded. Maureen grinned.  
"For the love of god, Dana, don't tell Cecil where you got them."  
Dana laughed.  
"I may have a bigger problem. We got talking and I let it slip that Carlos and the Harlans are gone. Carlsberg intends to be a good friend to Cecil in his time of need."

Maureen choked back a giggle and turned her attention back to Leann. Leann sighed.  
"Oh I may as well tell you although it pains me to reveal my sources. But the news has come from so far away it barely matters. I mean, it's not as if you could up and go at a moment's notice, is it?"  
Leann studied the scone crumbs on her plate. Maureen and Dana avoided looking at each other.  
"Well..." Leann leaned in, both elbows on the table. Maureen mirrored Leann's posture. Leann looked left and right before she went on with her tale. "My contact in the port of Lisbon runs a.... um, a..." Leann shrugged, "...certain class of establishment. That's unimportant. I sent her a message to look out for _The Bluffs_ and she told me it had been in port but had left with Sir Carlos for Angola."  
"Angola!" Maureen's eyebrows shot up. "That's so far away!"  
"Oh there's more!" Leann's expression was businesslike now. "I asked her to find out when Sir Carlos's ship made port but it never did. No, wait!" Leann held up a hand as Dana covered her mouth and widened her eyes. "There was a report of a clipper set on fire and sunk in a private bay north of Luanda. Apparently," Leann sat back and smiled, "with no loss of life other than the first mate who died from injuries sustained after he attempted to shoot a melanotic leopard."

Maureen and Dana asked for a few more details, refilled Leann's tea cup then discussed local affairs for long enough to be polite. Leann left with a promise to tell them as soon as any more news regarding Sir Carlos came her way. Maureen and Dana frowned at each other.  
"Maureen, we should tell Cecil."  
"Hmm," Maureen's frown lifted. "Perhaps. How is he?"  
Dana sighed and shook her head.  
"He has barely come out of Sir Carlos's laboratory for days. I do not know whether to leave him there or insist that he show himself. Both seem cruel."  
Maureen nodded.  
"I suppose he knows what he is doing. What should we do? Can we send someone to rescue Carlos from wherever he is stranded?"  
"Who would we send?" asked Dana. "Who else do we know who understands how important Carlos is to the manor?"  
"Quite." Maureen nodded. "We should ask Josie for advice."

The next day, Josie looked perplexed.  
"Carlos is _where?"_  
Dana recounted the details one more time. Maureen sat quietly. Josie's decision was firm.  
"Well, you have to go get him because explorer or not I doubt he will find his own way home. He is in a strange land, he probably has no money and I can't see him trading passage for labour. You see our Carlos as a sailor?" Maureen smirked and shook her head. Josie smiled. "Erika will see to your travel arrangements. Won't you?" Josie directed the last two words to the being who used to be known as Marcus Vansten. He nodded.  
"It's settled then. As soon as it can be arranged, you two and a couple of my Erikas will sail to Luanda and find Sir Carlos. He belongs here."

\------------

Cecil retreated into the laboratory and into himself.

It wasn't deliberate, only Cecil found that sitting in Carlos's space amongst things Carlos touched every day made him remember that Carlos was real and would surely return. Sometimes Cecil read through Carlos's meticulous notebooks. Other times he sat and stared, watched dust motes spiral through the air or imagined Carlos sitting at the wooden workbench, stained lab coat on and attention focused on some specimen or other, explaining his science to Earl and Roger. Often he slept, or lay on the sofa with his eyes fixed on the fireplace. 

When the house was silent, Cecil would creep down the back stair to the pantry, kept clean of spoiled food by Dana. There he ate. He did not question why there was usually a fresh plate of food, maybe sandwiches and cake or cold leftovers from whatever meal Dana made for Maureen and herself, and sometimes an earthenware jug of the weak beer the stablehands brewed in secret in their hayloft. 

\---------------

Dana and Maureen with two grey-clad Erikas sailed from Plymouth just over a week after seeking Josie's advice. Dana could not rouse Cecil so wrote him a brief letter and left it for him in the pantry, on top of the remains of a game pie from Carlsberg's store. For lack of any other comfort, Cecil had taken to numbing his senses and refused to emerge to wish them a safe trip either out of insensibility or sickness or shame at his condition. 

Their journey to Lisbon was as smooth as could be expected but they found out nothing more from the harbourmaster than Leann had already told them. However, the harbourmaster laughed and pointed out Mistress Lorena's establishment across the street. Lorena refused to speak a single word. Maureen and Dana, hustled back out into the street, returned to their ship where Erika and Erika waited with their trunk and pointed to a ship a few berths away.  
"The captain is waiting for us," Erika said. "Friend of Josie's. Captain Erika."  
"Oh," Maureen rolled her eyes. "Of course."  
Dana smiled.  
"Josie's Erikas really are angels for doing all this for us, don't you think?"  
Maureen smiled back and nodded as Erika and Erika took one handle each of their trunk and made their slow way to a sleek, tall ship named _The House of Light._

The passage to Luanda was uneventful. Dana and Maureen arrived three and a half weeks after setting sail from Plymouth. Luanda was a busy port and the women decided to leave most of their belongings aboard their ship, disembarking with such clothing as they could bear to wear and money to hire a guide hidden close to their skin. Captain Erika walked with them to the eastern edge of the city where the rains made roads slip into mud. Captain Erika led Dana and Maureen up to a ramshackle hut and rattled the door. It creaked open and a leathery, bearded face with soft eyes smiled out at them.

"Erika my angel! Come in, please, this is your house. Oh, you brought guests?"  
Erika nodded and reached a hand out to touch the man's forehead in a gesture that, Dana remarked privately later to Maureen, looked both affectionate and protective.  
"Yes," Erika's calm contralto seemed to fill the dark interior of the hut. "May their home be your home."  
Erika turned and walked back toward the harbour. The man laughed.  
"They say some funny things. My home is your home. Please, come in. Don't be afraid, I've taken so many vows I lost count years ago. My name is Brother Giacomo and this is my church."


	34. Found and Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's back!  
> (spoiler - and who's not)

Meanwhile, Cecil remained in the Manor and the Manor kept him safe. He ate when he had to, refused to answer the door to the delivery boy from Carlsberg's Stores (but always checked after the silent lad had gone away and found a package of provisions by the back door), and mysteriously found the thick, studded door to the wine cellar no longer responded to any of his keys. It did not give way to repeated hammering or a stream of curses Cecil had not uttered since he was a young man in love with a completely unsuitable painter.

It was on the morning of the third day after Cecil's forced sobriety when he received a letter. It was crushed and stained, the writing on the envelope unfamiliar. He frowned as he opened it then sat heavily on the once-polished floor of the hallway to read.

 

_My dear Cecil,_

_I do hope you received my letter from Lisbon and are not concerned for my welfare. I assure you I am quite well and engrossed in scientific endeavours in this land. I would gladly share my location with you, if only I knew it with any precision. I reached dry land somewhere north of Luanda and walked for miles with a priest for company. I am not alone so do not worry for my safety, Doug and Aleesha are my companions and protectors while I record my scientific observations. Doug is a warrior of impressive stature, Aleesha is his... I want to say wife or husband but I think neither is correct since Aleesha is neither a woman nor a man._

_Despite my adventures, I stil have the picture of us that you hid in my bag. Thank you again, Cecil, it reminds me of home._

_Home. I think often of that word. So few letters for such an enormous concept! What is home? I believe home is somewhere fitting, somewhere comfortable, somewhere that knows you belong to it. Cecil, the manor is your home, it pulls you in a way it has never pulled at me. The manor has always been your home, but never mine. I thought it was for a time, but the manor is not a place where I belong. This land, wet and green like you would never believe by the coast, hot and high and dry inland, is not my home either._

_Cecil, I must go where science leads. Please understand. I think you will, we have been so close for so long that surely you comprehend my turmoil and respect my decision. I will work here, gather data, collect evidence for hypotheses so advanced some might cry magic! Thre is so much I could study here. This is the most scientifically interesting place I have ever been._

_I miss you. Please tell Earl I miss him too and chide Roger if he has not kept up with his studies. I will find a passage back to you when I am done here. I do have somewhere! Despite all my concerns, I am home whenever I am with you. I belong to you._

_With love,_  
_Carlos_

 

Cecil read and re-read the letter. He read the words that made the lines, and the spaces where there were no words between the lines. His first reaction was relief, his Carlos was alive and safe and doing science. 

Cecil's second reaction was concern. Doug? Aleesha? Had Carlos moved on so quickly? 

His third reaction was despair. Carlos would forget him, so far away, tucked into an empty house where Carlos said he did not belong.

Anger followed. Anger at himself for thinking Carlos cared. Anger at Carlos for not wanting to come back. And emptiness at missing Earl and Roger, at least Earl and their son had been _taken_ and did not, as far as Cecil knew, have a choice. Cecil crumpled the letter up and threw it. Almost immediately he leapt up to retrieve it, smooth out the single page read it again. The last sentence brought him to frustrated tears. Silently, he called Carlos a liar.

Over the next weeks, Cecil threw himself into organising and reorganising the Manor. He cleaned and mended and replaced items broken, even going as far as to allow Carlsberg to help with orders from the city. He polished the copper pans and the silverware, and scrubbed every surface in the kitchen and scullery, paying particular attention to the floor tiles that caused Earl to rant when they were stained. The pantry he left, it seemed always to be tidy without his interference. Next, he tackled the dining room and the billiard room, both of which made him sit and think about Jake and Rochelle and their choice of a new life far away. Cecil pushed those thoughts away and stood, at last, in front of the Laboratory door.

He could go in. Not to sit, not to weep for pity at his own position, but to clean and organise and pack. Carlos would want his scientific equipment. He would need the neat, alphabetical rows of labelled jars and bottles and boxes. Surely a scientist would want the odd-shaped glassware and yards of tubing with the ground glass ends where everything fit snug together. And Carlos's notes, he would need those probably and Cecil should pack them away with care in labelled boxes ready for when Carlos sent for them.

Cecil reached out a hand and grasped the doorknob. He stood there as if shaking hands with the heavy oak for a full minute before letting his hand drop and turning away. If Carlos wanted his things he could come and get them himself.

A few days later, Cecil whirled around at the sound of voices. He dropped the armful of laundry he had been carrying from belowstairs up to his small room in the servants' quarters. The voice called, then called again louder.  
"Cecil?"  
He pelted down the narrow back stairs, almost losing his footing, out onto the landing and down the main staircase.  
"Dana!"  
"Yes!" Dana laughed as Cecil hugged her and would not let go. "It's me, I'm back with Maureen." She laughed again and pushed Cecil away. This time he allowed the separation. "Um, we need to freshen up and–"  
"No problem, go do what you need to do and I'll see what's in the pantry. Come belowstairs. Soon."

Cecil thought Maureen and Dana took for _ever_ to _freshen up,_ whatever that meant. He prepared three plates with a selection of cold meats and cheese, and the remains of the bread from Carlsberg's most recent delivery. He greeted Dana with an apologetic shrug.  
"I don't know about making bread so this is a little stale."  
"It's fine, Cecil," Dana smiled and sat at the servants' dining table. Maureen appeared and took a plate without comment but she closed her eyes and chewed with a smile. Cecil picked at his, crumbling the bread.  
"So. Um. How was your trip?"

Dana kicked Maureen under the table. Maureen handed over another crumpled envelope. Recognising Carlos's handwriting, Cecil stuffed it into a pocket and repeated his question.  
"So, _how was your trip?"_

Dana smiled a little sadly.  
"Carlos is well, he's coming home soon he says. He misses you. He wrote a letter, the one we brought."  
"I know," Cecil studied his plate, on which shredded ham joined the crumbed bread. "Tell me about _your_ trip."  
"It was," Maureen paused eating long enough to speak, "bloody awful."  
Dana giggled. "Ignore her, poor thing got ill on the boat home. It wasn't awful. It was very... educational."  
Cecil tilted his head up and signalled at Dana that she should keep talking. Dana sighed, took Maureen's hand and told their story.

_"Getting to Luanda was a long journey, not easy because conditions aboard our ship were poor. It was so hot, like the laundry room in summer only worse, and the food was... well. I do not need to go into detail but Maureen probably will. Once in Luanda, Erika led us to a church away from the harbour, on the outskirts, where we met a priest who let us stay in his house until we were ready to travel on foot. The priest, who said he was called Giacomo, gave us clothes suitable for the weather then led us through lush forest for two days. He said we would not come to any harm but... Ah Cecil, the noises! At night, sleeping in rough shelters, I wondered if we would be at the mercy of some wild animal or other. But we were not. Giacomo and the Erikas who remained made sure we were all safe."_

_"Up on the plains, the sun was relentless. Giacomo said the rains were late and people would starve if clouds did not appear soon and conquer the sun. Was that an odd phrase to use? Giacomo had a rather rough appearance, but he was a gentleman to us. He told us that he had met Carlos and knew where to find him and that is where he led us. To Carlos."_

Dana watched Cecil's face lift and twist and settle. He opened his mouth to speak but appeared to change his mind. Dana smiled at him.  
"Carlos looked well, Cecil. A little thinner but–"  
"–happy?" Cecil supplied. 

Dana could not hide her expression in time. She gave a soft sigh.  
"In a way, yes, happy with his work at least. He asked so much about you, though, he said he wished you had come with us to see him. He misses you and we said he could come back with us and he almost said yes and–"  
"–almost." Cecil looked up, speaking quietly, "I understand. I always do."  
He got up and left the room.

Much later, upstairs in his narrow bed in his old attic room, Cecil opened Carlos's letter. He read that Carlos missed him and loved him, that there was still so much work to do, that Carlos would look for passage home _soon_ just as soon as he'd finished with his science, and that he knew Cecil would understand.

Cecil understood one thing. Carlos lost and trapped in a far-off land and wanting to come home to him was something he could bear. Carlos choosing for them to remain separated when he could have returned was not. He read the letter again then let it flutter to the floor. He yawned, too tired to be angry, too tired to be upset. Cecil drifted into sleep wishing desperately that Earl and Roger were home.

\------------

Earl woke up with the dawn chorus. The sky beyond the small square window of the cottage was grey still and the light barely made it indoors before fading to nothing. He closed his eyes and rolled over but a small hand pushed his cheek. Earl tried for words and failed.  
"Mmmf."  
"Pa."  
"Mmhmm?"  
Earl forced his eyes open and raised a hand to rub them. He blinked and smiled.  
"Good morning! It's been a while since you last climbed into my bed. Did you have a bad dream?"  
Roger grinned back.  
"It wasn't a dream, Pa. Can we get up? I'm hungry."  
"Of course." Earl ruffled Roger's hair. "You know where the pantry is! You can reach the bread and jam. Shame you're too young to light the fire in the range for me. It's cold."  
"But Pa, get UUUP!"  
Earl groaned as Roger pummelled at his arm with tiny fists.  
"Fine! You want me to cook you something? You could say please, you know." Earl sat on the edge of the bed and frowned. This was not his old room in the Manor.  
"Roger, sweetheart, why are we in Grandpa's bed?"  
Roger laughed and pushed Earl's back until Earl laughed and stood up.  
"I forgot already. Come on, we'll have a walk to the Manor to work up an appetite for breakfast."

\--------------

Cecil scowled and scratched his unruly hair as he neared the kitchens, changing his footfall from his usual first-thing-in-the-morning _thump-thump_ to something almost silent, listening to the noises he should have expected. He did not want to be drawn into Dana and Maureen's morning cheer, or have to be polite in response to their pity. He paused to consider the sense in turning and going back upstairs when light, rapid footsteps and a giggle reached his ears. Cecil froze, mouth dropping open then forming a desperate grin. He clattered down the rest of the narrow wooden staircase and burst into the scullery.

Earl caught Cecil and held him tight while Roger raided the pantry for something better than stale bread and cheddar with the fuzz pared off.

Cecil was not in the mood for words. He followed Earl around the kitchens while Earl commented on how clean everything was and quizzed Cecil on whether or not he had been eating proper meals. Cecil answered in single syllables, only troubling his brain for complete sentences when Roger finished his breakfast, took Papa Cecil's hand and started chattering to him as if everything was normal. 

Cecil half-listened, offering encouragement, while Earl fussed around the pantry and the range.  
"Roger, my lad," Earl interrupted, throwing the words over his shoulder, "Would ye tell Papa Cecil what ye told me on the walk up to the Manor?"  
Roger nodded, a solemn look on his young face. Cecil raised an eyebrow at Earl, who shrugged. "He'll tell it better. I'm forgetting already."  
"Grandma said Pa always forgets." Roger pursed his lips and Cecil smiled at the new expression Roger made, like a little old lady, until the boy smiled. "But she doesn't mind because he always comes back when he's called, he just never knows why."

"Grandma?" Cecil frowned. Roger gave Cecil a pitying expression.  
"She was married to Grandpa long ago. Didn't you ever have a grandma?"  
"Not one that I met." Cecil thought for a few seconds. "She probably died before I was born. Um. Like yours."  
"Oh!" Roger's serious face was back. "I know. She said she used to be sad that she couldn't be with Grandpa and Pa but now she's got Grandpa back home she's happy."

Cecil sat on a stool and let Earl make him coffee after sniffing the small packet of roasted beans in Carlsberg's box.  
"Um, Roger, are you telling me you met your dead grandma?"  
Roger nodded as if this was nothing unusual at all and got on with his chosen task of counting and sorting cans and jars from the pantry. Cecil frowned at Earl.  
"You indulge his fantasy?"  
Earl smiled and shrugged. He called Roger over to help grind the coffee the sat beside Cecil.  
"I don't remember, but it feels like the truth. I remember carrying Pa up to the circle. I laid him down and expected to wait with him while he passed, you know?" Earl looked at Cecil with a serious expression and Cecil stroked Earl's cheek and nodded. "But when it happened, he took a breath in and instead of that awful rattle and wheeze, he held it and smiled at me. And sat up. When I looked aroud the stones were gone, the grass was long and green and there were figures. Roger was–"  
"I was playing with my uncle. He's only small."  
Cecil gaped at Earl.  
"Your brother? But didn't your ma and your brother–"  
"Yes! But they were there. That's all I remember until waking up at daybreak in Pa Harlan's cottage with this lummox," Earl poked Roger's side, making him giggle, "shoving me."

Cecil held his head in his hands and stared at the wooden table top he had scrubbed of its layers of filth just a couple of days before.  
"Earl, you were gone for so long! Weeks! Months! I've been here and... and..."  
Cecil's head dropped further, tears splashing onto the wood and soaking in. Earl Smiled at Roger.  
"Sweetheart? Would you go find Maureen and ask her to find you some bigger clothes? You've grown, little man!"

Roger thundered off upstairs. Earl sat close with his arm across Cecil's shoulders.  
"Ceece, my love, I wouldn't have been away so long if I'd known. There was no time there, wherever it was. Maybe that's why I can't remember anything after the first few moments."  
Cecil wiped his face on his sleeves and looked up.  
"But you came back."  
"Of course I did, Ceece." Earl smiled and kissed Cecil's forehead. "I belong here as much as you and Carlos do. Is he upstairs? Did he have a good voyage home?"

Cecil's face twisted and Earl held him closer. Cecil laid his head on Earl's shoulder, and Earl crooned soft words to him and kissed his hair until tears came.  
Cecil was not a quiet weeper. Earl had seen paintings of pretty tears on soft cheeks, and had heard stories of beautiful princesses whose loveliness was magnified by delicate misery. Cecil was not of this type. He clung to Earl, sobbing and snorting, face red and puffy, whining unintelligible syllables until Earl picked him up and carried him all the way up to their old room with the square window that stuck out from the rooftop. Earl laid Cecil down carefully on his bed, facing the wall, and squashed up against his back.

Earl wormed his arm under Cecil's head and held him tight, his chest flush against Cecil's back, stroking his hair and murmuring quiet endearments. It was something he had learned to do when Cecil suffered heartbreak and he had had occasional practice over the years they had bunked together. But Earl reasoned that this would be far worse than the hours after some handsome stable hand who turned Cecil's head decided to move on. Cecil quietened and Earl sighed.

"Did he say he's not coming back?" Earl spoke quietly. "Has he sent for his things?"  
"No," Cecil's voice was a hoarse whisper.  
"Did he say he _is_ coming back?"  
Cecil nodded his head.  
"When he's finished his _science_."  
"Oh!" Earl attempted a note of cheer through his concern. "That's good. Science can't take all that long, can it?"  
"Too long. He could have come back and he stayed away."  
"Ceece, sweetheart," Earl hugged Cecil and stroked his arm. "He loves you. He loves his work. He'll come home when he realises it's only you that'll love him back."

Cecil shivered and sighed and wriggled around until he faced Earl.  
"Why do you always come home to me? Earl?"  
Earl raised his eyebrows at the unexpected question. He bit his lip and smiled.  
"Because you and I fit together. Um, Pa's cottage should be mine now but I like staying at the Manor. Do you think Maureen and Dana would like it?"  
Cecil pushed Earl away slightly and frowned at him.  
"You changed the subject."  
"I did, I did that." Earl grinned. "While I'm busy changing subjects, I think you should take a bath. Water might be just hot enough now."  
Cecil smiled, a fluttery, uncertain upturn of his lips.

Earl kissed Cecil gently and rolled off the bed. He offered Cecil his hand. Cecil took it and let Earl pull him to his feet. They shook their heads at the small tub in the servants' bathroom, the one where getting the water first was a rare luxury in the days when the manor bustled with Erikas. 

"Ceece, you get towels and fresh clothes, for me too, and I'll get Ca... the main bathroom ready."  
Earl hoped Cecil hadn't noticed his slip. Cecil kissed his cheek and went to the linen closet. Earl ran downstairs to Carlos's bathroom and hurriedly stuffed everything he saw belonging to Carlos into a cupboard. By the time Cecil slipped into the room, warm water half-filled the large enamelled tub, and a jug and a block of plain soap sat on the edge.

Cecil let Earl undress him and help him into the tub. Earl undressed too and let his clothes drop in a pile by his feet. Cecil tutted and Earl pulled a face before clambering in behind Cecil and slotting his legs around Cecil's sides. He picked up the jug and used it to pour warm water over Cecil, then lathered his hands and massaged soap through Cecil's hair before rinsing it off. Cecil reclined until he lay against Earl. Earl stroked the soap up and down Cecil's chest then traced smooth circles onto his skin with slow palms. 

After a few moments, Cecil sighed.  
"Lower."  
Earl smiled and obliged, stretching as far down Cecil's belly as his fingertips would reach. Cecil let out a small groan.  
"Lower."  
"Ceece?"  
"Touch me, Earl. Make me feel better. Just for a while."  
"Sit up?"  
Cecil did as Earl asked. Earl struggled to his feet and stepped out of the tub, offering one hand to Cecil. Cecil stood and Earl wrapped a towel around him, helping him out to stand on the mat. Earl stood close to Cecil, drying him a little roughly.  
"Are you sure?"  
Cecil nodded and smiled at Earl.  
"You always make me feel better."

Later, when Cecil lay dozing in Earl's arms, Earl allowed himself to cry in silence for the losses he felt but did not quite remember.


	35. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil is unwell, Carlos suffers a setback and Maureen wants to feel welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no updates!  
> One more chapter after this.

It was almost summer, but not yet past the point of late frost. Grass glinted and sparkled in too-early light, lambs still bleated in the low pasture, and Earl puffed out clouds when he rose to rush down to the scullery to light the half-range that gave their world a warm focus. By mid afternoon it would be warm enough for shirtsleeves in the herb garden and Roger would pester to be allowed to run barefoot over the close-cropped paddock to plead with the stable hands to let him balance precariously on the back of Sir Carlos's mare.

Earl smiled and waved up at the high window where he knew Cecil likely watched him trot back from the henhouse with the makings of breakfast, and if Roger was not looking, maybe he'd sneak back for dinner as well. Back in the scullery, Earl fed the crackling fire and closed the door on the range, opening an air vent. He chose a crackly-glazed, ceramic bowl and a copper pan, making no effort to respect the sleepy state of the rest of the Manor's occupants.

Footsteps on the wooden stair brought a smile to soften Earl's face. He looked sideways at Maureen.  
"Mornin, breakfast in fifteen minutes?"  
"Mmhmm." Maureen yawned. "Dana's up and busy, Roger's dead to this world until he smells food, and I'll leave Cecil up to you. Is there coffee?"  
"As soon as you make some, there will be." Earl grinned at Maureen and pointed at the grinder.  
"Ugh, isn't that your job?"  
"S'pose, tell you what." Earl's grin got wider. "I'll make the coffee if you explain to the lad where little babby lambs come from. He's been very curious about that."  
Maureen rolled her eyes and fitted the handle onto the grinder. Earl laughed and shook his head. "I think I'll leave that job to Carlos."

Earl realised what he had said as soon as the words cleared his lips. He banged the pan down on the range and grunted in annoyance. Maureen glanced at him but quickly looked away.  
"Thought this might suit you," she said with the blandest voice she could manage. "You get Cecil to yourself and the Manor is funded enough for now. Josie reckons a new master or mistress or somesuch will be along if the day comes that Carlos decides to give us up."  
"I do not care for Josie's opinion," Earl growled. "Or yours. Carlos should be here." Earl looked over to meet Maureen's frown. "Everyone knows that but himself. The lad is convinced his papa Carlos will be home soon and he encourages Cecil to hope then despair."  
"Well," Maureen turned the grinder handle slowly, "Dana said she doesn't think Carlos will abandon Cecil."

Earl busied himself beating eggs until his forearm ached because of the tight grip he had on the whisk. Maureen angled herself to watch his jaw clench and his teeth grit. When Earl stopped, staring at the pan until his eyes went glassy, Maureen touched his elbow and caught the bowl before it slipped from Earl's grip.  
"You miss him."  
"Mmhmm," Earl nodded, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Didn't expect to. Didn't expect he'd be gone long, not really."  
Earl turned to look at Maureen, chewing on his lip.  
"He wrote to Cecil, Maureen. Why did he not write to me and the lad?"  
"You can't–" Maureen stopped herself and restarted her sentence with pink cheeks that she blamed on the exertion of grinding coffee beans. "You can't expect him to have a fine collection of writing paper and sharp nibs out there."

Earl cleared his throat, wiped his face on his sleeve and flicked a knob of butter into the copper pan where it hissed and crackled. He dropped in the beaten eggs a few seconds later and hummed to himself as they scrambled. By the time Cecil and Roger thumped down the wooden staircase, Earl had hot breakfast and a warm smile ready for them.

The day progressed carefully, as if afraid of what disaster a wrong step might bring. Earl feigned cheer at Cecil's mood, Maureen and Dana went out to see if the Harlan cottage, cold and empty, might suit them since Earl said that his intention was to remain at the Manor, and Roger picked up his normal routine of lessons and animal care best he could. Cecil announced that he would begin airing the house and opening up the closed off, dust-sheeted rooms ready for Carlos's return, then sat despondent in the middle of one such chamber declaring that his existence was unbearable now that Carlos had lost interest in him and was never coming home.

Earl did his best. He saw that Cecil had food and company when he needed it. He took Cecil out into the village to Carlsberg's stores where he exchanged worried glances with the shopkeeper. He was heartened by Cecil's laughter when Roger and Janice came up with some scheme or other for getting into trouble, then discouraged by Cecil's insistence that he must be left alone because that was his lot in life and he had no right to expect anything different. 

Dana suggested to Cecil that opening up the manor was a good idea. They could work together to air and clean the rooms ready for... Dana hoped that Cecil did not notice the pause in her voice before she said _guests._

Between them, with Carlsberg's help, Dana and Earl kept Cecil occupied during the daylight hours with small tasks. Maureen busied herself with making Harlan's cottage fit for herself and Dana, but with a growing sense that it was not theirs. The door caught and creaked on rusted hinges when she pushed with her shoulder to force her way inside, yet the same day when Earl and Roger arrived with extra firewood, it yielded without complaint. _Probably the damp,_ Maureen muttered. The chill in the air dissipated as soon as Earl laid and lit a small fire in the hearth, turning the tiny parlour into a cheerful space with dancing orange reflecting from the freshly whitewashed walls. 

With Earl's eye for guidance, Maureen hung pictures of pretty florals, foreign cities and a finger-painting of a cockerel standing on the henhouse roof handed to her with a proud smile by the young artist himself. She spread gaudy fabric over the worn settee and smiled at the comfort that seemed to ease into the room. She arranged a few trinkets on the mantel - mementoes of the trip she and Dana once took intending to experience European culture, but never venturing south of Paris.

But such homey signs of the cottage's proposed new occupants were never permanent. Upon her next visit to the cottage with an armful of household linens to replace Old Pa's threadbare hand-me-downs, Maureen found her knick-knacks on the doorstep, her colourful throws folded beneath them and her favourite pictures stacked against the outside wall. All that remained undisturbed was Roger's daub of _Charles Chickens_ proudly crowing atop _Beak House._

Small things happened to disquiet Maureen. A handkerchief accidentally dropped and lost on the floor turned up charred in the fireplace. The fire refused to catch when she set it even though she knew the kindling was dry and the wood seasoned. Food left for even one cold night in the pantry spoiled by morning. When she took Roger with her, the cottage felt safe and cheery but the soft warmth left as soon as the boy ran off to say good afternoon to the stones. Dana sighed deeper with each tale Maureen recounted of some occurrence that _might_ be chance, or a prank by some stablehand or groundsman. 

Eventually one day, having driven out the last of the spiders and left fresh sheets and blankets folded at the foot of the bed, Maureen closed the door behind her and walked the brisk mile back to the manor, glad to be going home to Dana, who had declared that the Manor was as good a place to live as any.

Maureen was accustomed to using the front door. As governess, she was not exactly a servant but not exactly family and certainly not a guest. She hung her coat and bonnet, checked her boots were clean enough and clomped her way across the hall to the staircase, glancing at the small table where an empty silver tray waited to receive messages, letters and visitors' cards. After changing into a fresh day dress, Maureen headed down belowstairs, passing the small table in the hall on her way to the hidden door under the main staircase. The tray was no longer empty. She frowned at the gold leaf, scallop-edged cards in her hand as she trod the narrow wooden staircase that led to the servants' domain.

"Maureen?" Dana sounded concerned. Maureen hurried to the cramped office that used to belong to Ortiz.  
"Yes, it's me. Look." Maureen held out the cards, "They arrived sometime in the last ten minutes. Did you hear anyone?"  
"No," Dana shook her head and took the cards from Maureen's hand, "But I was down here with Cecil setting a budget for new linens. I thought a shopping trip might cheer him up but..." Dana grinned in delight. "Maureen, these are invitations. To an opera! And a party after!"  
Maureen took Dana's hand and leaned close. "I know. One each. There's one for Carlos too. Has Josie forgotten? Perhaps it would be best if Cecil and Earl knew nothing of it."  
"Nothing of what?" Earl's soft voice interrupted Maureen's whisper. "What am I not to know?"

Dana sighed and Maureen sat. "We have all been invited to the grand opening of Josie's new opera house. By name. Look," Dana dealt the cards onto the table. "Dana, Maureen, Roger, Earl, Cecil," she paused before laying down the last card, "and Carlos."  
"Carlos?" Cecil's voice soared above everyone's and Maureen groaned quietly. "Have you heard from Carlos?"  
"No, Ceece, it's... Josie has invited us all to her opera." Earl pointed at the cards. "She sent one for Carlos too. That's all."  
"Oh." Cecil's face tightened. "I see. Well. I suppose an opera will be entertaining. Um," Cecil frowned at Maureen. "What's an opera?"

After some discussion and guesswork, Cecil declared that opera sounded fun and not unlike some of the bawdy entertainment put on by the travellers he once joined to part rich gentlefolks and rough villagers alike from their money. He threw himself into preparations, making sure everyone had suitable laundered attire, and did not bring up the subject of Carlos's invitation until much later. Standing in the parlour with Earl and Roger, uncomfortable in formal clothing, Dana hovering by the door waiting for Maureen to appear, Cecil sighed.

"Are you tired?" Earl asked. "We don't have to go if you would rather not."  
"I want to go," Cecil dropped his head as if he spoke to the carpet. "I wish Carlos would be there too. I wish he was upstairs and I was helping him dress. I wish everything was normal and he'd never left us. I wish I WISH I WISH..."  
Cecil raised his head. Roger stared at him, frowning at Papa Cecil's tears. Earl held Cecil close, feeling rather than hearing his hiccups and sobs.  
"I know. Ceece, sweetheart, we all wish Carlos was home. Roger misses him, I miss him, you miss him, we all do. I wish Carlos was home."  
Dana agreed. "Yes, the manor is a happier place with Carlos here. But he is not here. I wonder where he is and what he is doing. Even Maureen misses his company although she will never say so. Cecil, wishing will not–"  
"I know. Wishing will not make me forget. Wishing will not make me hate him for leaving and not care that he stayed away." Cecil wiped his face with his hand then with the handkerchief Roger offered him from his own pocket. Cecil snuffled and smiled down at Roger. Roger gazed up with solemn eyes.  
"Papa, I wish Papa Carlos would come home and tell me stories about science and tuck me in."

Earl released Cecil and lifted Roger into a hug.  
"Well, we can't always get what we wish for. Perhaps I should instead wish for an evening of entertainment with my friends and family followed by a safe return to bed. What do you think, my boy?"  
"I wish that tomorrow I be allowed to exercise Papa Carlos's mare by myself." Roger pleaded. "I am almost big enough!"  
"Nice try, but no." Earl laughed at Roger's pout. He led the boy over to the white-painted door frame and showed him a line scratched into the gloss some way above Roger's head. "Papa Carlos said you had to be this tall before it would be safe." 

Dana squeezed Cecil's arm and fought to keep her face neutral. Cecil found a slight smile, blew his nose, rubbed his blotchy eyes and yawned.  
"I am ready to go now. I am exhausted, Dana, but I want some diversion to take my mind off..." Cecil sighed. "You know. Have I ruined the evening again?"  
Dana frowned and feigned incomprehension despite so many evenings spent placating, cajoling and treading eggshells. "No, of course not. Look, Maureen is ready and the coach is here. Come on."  
Earl carried Roger on his back, Dana led Cecil by the hand and Maureen closed the manor door behind them.

\-------------------

Carlos let out a cry of disbelief and stifled rage. His notes, his precious notes, kicked up by accident, skimmed over tall grasses greened by the rains and wafted into waves by the breeze. He crashed after a few pages of his writing, trying to save letters and diagrams cramped to save space on the scarce resource. He was too slow. Doug called after him while Aleesha's hunting dog bounced up and down in the grass, appearing and disappearing as if in a game of Carlos's devising.  
"Doug, those were my work, those were important!"  
"Sorry," Doug looked around. "You can make more, yes?"  
"Hold still." Carlos pulled on Doug's forearm as the tall warrior flinched. "Let me clean this and bind it properly."  
Doug glanced down at the oozing wound on his upper arm and sat as upright as possible, looking and listening. Just as Carlos finished with clean water and makeshift bandages, Doug leapt to his feet at a cry from Aleesha.  
"There! We go fight!"  
"No, no," Carlos pleaded. "Not again. Can't you simply come to some agreement with them? One that doesn't involve fighting?"  
Doug stared at Carlos and laughed. "Little scientist, do your science."  
Doug ruffled Carlos's unruly hair and set off at a trot Carlos knew easily outpaced his own sprint. Aleesha joined him and together with a few others they set off to defend their fluid borders. Carlos cried out again in despair as the small group ran gracefully through the area he had painstakingly cleared, marked and seeded a week before, ruining his experiment again.

Carlos sat and wept at the pointlessness of it all. More than anything, now, he wanted to go home. Daydreaming of cool, damp weather and warm smiles, he gathered up what he could of his remaining notes and stuffed the dirt-stained, crumpled mess into his bag. Leaning back in the shade of a stunted tree, Carlos fell asleep.

When he woke up, disorientated and in darkness, Carlos felt cold under his back and shivered. His thin tunic offered protection from the overhead sun and hard-baked ground, but this felt wrong. He sat up, blinking and feeling outwards with his hands. Turning onto his knees, Carlos recognised smooth flagstones below him and wooden panels to the side. He pushed slowly to his feet, eyes adjusting, feeling along the walls for any clue to his whereabouts. 

"Doug?" Carlos called out, feeling a little silly, "Aleesha?" He sighed and shook his head. "Giacomo?" No reply reassured him. Carlos worked his way to the end of what he inferred was a short passageway and found a door. He turned the handle and opened it, then laughed.

\---------------

The opera was unlike anything Cecil had ever imagined, and paled to insignificance in the light of the after-show events. Earl took Roger out to play hide and seek in the atrium with Janice, who turned out not to be an opera lover either. Sitting a few rows away from Dana and Maureen, Cecil watched the opera with some enjoyment, despite not quite knowing what was happening on stage most of the time. As the curtain fell at the end of the final act, he was distracted by a commotion behind him. Hiram McDaniels, intent on accosting Miss Maureen, was attempting to push Dana and had his arm raised. 

Cecil barely knew what happened next. His fists hurt, he was out of breath and doubled over, held up by his hand grasping on a railing outside a dark, silent residence a few streets from the opera house. He stood, remembering to breathe, remembering that his heart should beat more steadily than this. After a few minutes, Cecil started to trudge home. 

_They won't miss me. They will all have fun at the party without me. They don't need me. I drain them. I always do this. I spoil things. I should go and pack. I should just leave and nobody will realise. Maybe in a few weeks they'll say - do you remember Cecil who once lived here? We are so much happier now he is gone. Maybe they will feel guilty that I am gone and they... probably not. I will–_

Noise made Cecil look behind him. A small carriage drawn by two horses clattered up beside him, sparks on the cobblestones under the horses' hooves and a cry from inside the coach. The door opened and a hand reached out.  
"Palmer, you are full of surprises! Get in."  
Ortiz, as ever, was not to be disobeyed.

The cab deposited them back at the opera house and Josie paid the cabbie with a handshake, an invitation to come in and eat, and a promise of free tickets. She ushered Cecil inside via a side door and soon he was in a glitter and gilt decorated room full of food and drink and people. Josie steered Cecil over to a seat beside Janice Carlsberg. Years later, he would swear that all he remembered of that night was when Janice pointed and said two words. Uncle Carlos.

But others chose to remember more.

Josie swore she had not invited McDaniels and that the man had a weapon in his hand when he lunged at Dana. Cecil, she testified, held on to McDaniels's arm to prevent the blow from falling then, completely in self defence, spun him around, punched him with a right hook and a left uppercut before _someone_ kicked McDaniels in a way that made it very difficult for him to retaliate. 

Hiram McDaniels swore that he had not attacked Miss Cardinal at all, never mind with murderous intent, and that the whole thing was a silly misunderstanding. But nobody believed that for a moment.

Maureen gave the least biased account of the evening. The opera, she said to a court official, was terrible. But entertainment of such high class is bound to be a trial, is it not? Maureen explained that the music had been masterful, especially that from the range of instruments played by the musician she met at the party afterwards. Michelle was her name. When dragged back to the topic of the altercation between McDaniels and Palmer, Maureen swore that McDaniels attacked Dana who was shielding her from unwanted advances. Cecil grappled the knife from McDaniels's sweaty paw then punched him a few times. McDaniels fell. Maureen confessed to landing an opportunistic kick to his _crown jewels_ and performed a perfectly executed mime of her action before enquiringly of the official, _Are you well sir? Your eyes are watering."_

What Cecil remembered was this: he saw Carlos across the room and then they were in each others' arms and nothing else seemed important.


	36. Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who could that be hiding in the barn? Carlos and Cecil meet an old friend.

It had been three weeks since Carlos had fallen into frustrated sleep on the plains of western Angola, wishing to be home, and woken up chilled and stiff-jointed in the servants' passageway that led to his laboratory in the Manor. He had found the Manor dark and silent, yet as he peered into the void-like gloom one of the lamps above the fireplace popped and lit, and he stepped into a welcoming orange glow. Another lamp flared and settled in the hallway and in its pool of yellow Carlos saw a gilt-edged card. He read it, rushed upstairs to wash and change clothes, and set off with excitement in his gait. An opera! And Cecil would surely be there.

For the first few days, Cecil was so attentive to Carlos that the scientist wondered if he was not to be left alone. When he woke in the night, uncomfortable in his soft bed and unsettled by silence broken only by the quiet sounds of the manor relaxing around him, Cecil was always ready with a glass of water or a spare blanket, asking if he needed anything else. Early in the morning of the third day since his return, Carlos thought he caught a familiar glint in Cecil's eye. He answered Cecil's low-voiced question _love, do you need anything?_ with a suggestive snigger and a hand reaching across Cecil's nightclothes to pull at the thin fabric. Cecil laughed, mirrored Carlos's actions, sliding his hand into Carlos's leggings, teasing before popping the buttons one by one. It was sweet and quickly over for them both, and Carlos slept soundly afterwards.

The next few days passed like honey. Carlos and Cecil spent their time in adoring gazes, sweet words and soft kisses that grew more urgent from time to time, when they would slip away hand in hand, giggling, in search of privacy. Earl observed their behaviour with amusement and waited for everything to go back to normal. He laughed at Cecil's giddiness and listened rapt to Carlos's lyrical descriptions of life in the forests and plains of west Africa. Cecil quietened for these interludes, his face a little drawn. Earl put it down to tiredness and the come-down from the excitement of having Carlos home again. He'd seen it before when Cecil had some new fancy, a pretty stable-hand or a ruggedly handsome shepherd, and he reasoned this was normal. Cecil was in love again with all new feelings for his scientist, but there was a melancholy turn to his moods.

Cecil's light moods were often followed by dark. It was one of those that saw Cecil storm off from the dinner table with his jaw set, his eyes tear-sparkled, and his hand clutching the decanter of port. Carlos stood but Earl held his arm.  
"I have to go after him!"  
"No," Earl sighed. "Best not sometimes. Sit down, Carlos. There's no fixing our Ceece without letting him have the time he needs."  
"But he's upset!" Carlos still stood, pulling against Earl's grip. "I said something. I know I did. I observed that he was fine before I started telling you about Doug and Aleesha and their hunting dog and how scientifically interesting their land is. Then he was not fine!"  
"I know, Carlos, I know. Sit down." Earl tugged at Carlos's arm and Carlos capitulated. He sat heavily in his dining chair and leaned towards Earl.  
"What's going on?"  
Earl looked for the decanter then sighed at the space it had occupied.  
"I think he's trying to love you less in case you might fall out of love with him. So that it'll hurt less when you leave. I've seen it before."

Carlos gaped at Earl.  
"Leave? I just got back! Three weeks ago! I'm not leaving! How could you possibly think that I'd–"  
"Shut up, Carlos!" Earl stood abruptly, scowling down at Carlos, hands on the tablecloth, chair crashing behind him. "See this from _his_ point of view for a second or two? If you can."  
Earl took three steps towards the door then stopped, fists clenched, and turned. His face betrayed barely-controlled fury.  
"You disappeared. You could have come home earlier but you chose to stay away. Yes I heard all about that! He had nobody, Carlos, _nobody_ to care about him for months. You think coming home and telling tales of how great it was to be away is _helping?_ You're so entranced by your own experience you can't see how _his_ has damaged us all."  
Earl left the room and minutes later Carlos heard the sound of loud clattering from the scullery as Earl took out his anger and frustration on the thick copper and cast iron pans.

Carlos did not move until the last candle burned out. He'd heard Earl traipsing upstairs, half-smiled at the sound of Dana and Maureen coming home with Roger from an evening with the Carlsbergs, Roger's rapid footsteps thumping upstairs after his pa, and the women lauging quietly and talking in private voices. Carlos sat in the cooling dark of the dining room, thinking and overthinking and failing to reach any logical conclusions about what to do next. In the end he decided to go to bed.

"Oh!"

The soft syllable escaped in response to the sight of Cecil sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at a cold and empty hearth. Cecil's head turned and, despite the poor illumination, Carlos could see his lips dark-stained, purple from the sweet, heavy port.  
"Do you ev'n wan' t'be here?" Cecil slurred, looking back at the grate. "If you've tired of me, say so. Everyone tires of me eeee-ventually. I'll survive."  
Carlos took a step forward.  
"Sweetheart, no. I want to be here with you. I missed you so much when I was away!"  
"Well," Cecil pushed unsteadily to his feet, "you'll leave me again and I won't bear it. Goodnight."  
Cecil tried to get past Carlos to the door but there was no room for his drunken gait. He lurched sideways into Carlos. Carlos caught him and held tight for a few seconds until Cecil wriggled away and opened the door.  
"Let me help you."  
"No, don-need help! On my own now. Won' fall in love again."

Carlos reached out to catch Cecil in his arms before the quivering chin and lost look turned into tears and blame. He rocked Cecil quietly, reassuring murmurs designed to comfort and to calm. He felt the weight of Cecil's head on his shoulder, and carefully lifted him, walked the few steps to bed and lay beside him. Cecil seemed smaller, lighter. Although not small, exactly, he'd never been a large man either. Carlos reasoned with himself that all would be well as long as he could resist talking about his time away, and a few weeks of Earl's best cooking would do them all good. He said so quietly as Cecil slipped into slumber. He'd have a headache in the morning.

Cecil woke in the small hours to find Carlos sitting on the edge of the bed holding a tall glass and clean nightwear.  
"C'mon, drink this," Carlos helped Cecil to sit up. "No, all of it... Slow down!"  
Cecil grimaced as the cold liquid hit his irritated stomach and caused a cramp. He wiped his face on his sleeve then sipped slowly.  
"Earl make this?" Cecil pointed to the empty glass.  
"Mmhmm, there's a different one for when you think you can keep it down. He called it... something."  
"Harlan's hangover cure." Cecil lay down again, curled on his side. "I know it."

There were more days of sullenness from Cecil and thinning patience from Carlos. Earl watched unable to help for fear of taking sides in an argument nobody knew how to win. Earl took to spending as little time indoors as possible, enlisting Roger's help with the gardens. Roger lifted Earl's spirits. The boy was quick and getting stronger almost by the day, and there was no doubt he was a Harlan, as comfortable with nature as his grandfather had been.

It was Roger who spotted the vagrant in the barn one morning, sitting in a mound of hay as if he had just been delivered from it, emerging into the striped sunlight struggling horizontally through the slats of the barn door and blinking as if he'd never seen a child before. He stood on spindles and the bushy hair and beard on top of his thin torso reminded Roger of the brush Pa kept under the scullery sink for scrubbing out flagons.

"Dove sono? Qual è la città più vicina?"  
Roger frowned. The thin, ragged man spoke words that sounded unlike Papa Carlos or Pa, and failed to match even Papa Cecil's odd incantations. He took a step backwards before he remembered his manners and, with embarrassed guilt, what Miss Dana and Miss Maureen would think of him if he showed disrespect to his elders, although from what Roger had seen and heard Miss Maureen and Miss Dana were often guilty themselves of the same transgression. Roger stepped forward, practised words ready.  
"Good morning, sir, I hope I find you well?"  
"Oh!" The man smiled, strong teeth seeming at odds with his impoverished appearance. "Good morning, child! Please, tell me, where am I?"  
"You're in our barn out the back of the house. My pa will be here." Roger turned and yelled, "PA!"

Earl eyed the man with suspicion but it was not the Harlan way to turn away those in need when he was able to help.  
"Do you need food? Clothing? I might be able to find some boots you can have then you can rest and be on your way."  
The man smiled wider.  
"God be thanked! I have seen little charity on my journey. Thank you sir, I will eat and I will accept clothing with a grateful prayer. I have walked far and my destination always seems just a little further than I can travel before nightfall."  
The man's cheer was infectious and Earl smiled in return.  
"Very well. I have a cottage nearby that you may use for the day and tonight if you need a better roof over your head. There is," Earl wondered if he was overstepping the limits of hospitality, "firewood, a tin bath and clothing that was my father's. I am sure he would be content for you to wear what he no longer requires. My boy will show you. When you are ready, the manor is nearby," Earl pointed along the narrow, stony path that connected the manor with the cottage and wound past the barn and stables in between. "Come to the kitchen door and there will be food."

Earl thought little more of it as Roger led the vagrant away and he returned to the manor to make lunch. The cottage had lain empty since Maureen had given up trying to take it over and come back to the manor. By rights he should move there himself and recently he had thought that prospect more and more appealing. He could live there with Roger, tell Carlos to engage another cook and work on the grounds like his father had done, but he knew that was not what he wanted at all. Roger needed the company of more than just hard work and himself, and Earl wanted to return to the comfort once offered by Cecil and Carlos.

Lunch would take preparation. There was dough to knock back and allow to rise again, then bake into rolls to go with broth he had yet to make from last night's chicken carcass and vegetables, thickened with barley from the manor's tenant farms. He would send Roger for parsley from the herb garden since the boy had learned the differences between the most common culinary herbs and probably would not bring coriander by mistake again. Earl grinned at the memory of the faces around the table carefully concealing their surprise at the flavour of Roger's first foray into cooking. Maureen, in a droll voice, had suggested that perhaps Roger had other as yet undiscovered talents, while Carlos had cheerfully asked for seconds.

Cecil lurked in the doorway of the laundry room opposite the scullery. Earl paused beside him, stroked his cheek and kissed him lightly.  
"How do you f– I mean, are you–" Earl gave up. "You know what I mean."  
Cecil smiled.  
"It's all right, Earl. I'm tired, that's all. Tired of everything."  
"Come help me chop carrots?"  
"Oooh! You know how to give a guy a good time!"  
Earl spoke a low murmur in Cecil's ear. "If you're proficient at handling my vegetables I might let you strip my carcass." Cecil snorted and Earl hugged him. "Would you set an extra place today? The lad found someone sleeping in the barn. He looked hungry and harmless so I sent him to get cleaned up and said he should come eat."  
"I will," Cecil pulled Earl into the laundry room. "So what you are saying is that Roger is busy being a good host and we have some time to kill?"  
"Ah-hah, mmhmm yes, but the time to kill comes _after_ lunch prep. Honey, Ceece, are you...mmm."  
On the whole, Earl thought as Cecil pushed him against the back of the firmly closed door, the manor wasn't such a bad place to be.

At lunch, Carlos gave the spare place setting a bemused stare. Roger saw, and pointed to the empty chair. "New friend came," he said through a mouthful of warm bread slathered in butter, "but he's not invisible he's just late for lunch."  
"Well," Cecil shrugged. "It's a good thing Maureen isn't here to tell him off. Pass the butter?" Carlos slid the porcelain butter dish across the table to Cecil. Earl brought through the double-handled stock pot and set it on the table in front of his place.  
"Lunch is late for lunch so there's no need to worry. Could be he's too shy to come in."  
Footsteps in the passageway made all four turn their heads to the door, which creaked open. Carlos stood, a grin spreading across his face.  
"Giacomo! You came!"

The slight man found himself engulfed in a hug.  
"I thought you might be unable, or decide not to visit." Carlos turned to the two astounded faces and one open, friendly smile of Cecil, Earl and Roger. "This is Giacomo, the priest who helped me so much. I said he was welcome here and... Ceece? Cecil, are you unwell?"  
But Cecil barely heard Carlos speak. He walked forward and stood in front of their guest. He swallowed, spoke in a disbelieving murmur.  
"Brother Giacomo? Are you–"  
"Merciful God! Can it really be? You... you have barely changed, my sweet boy! I see the mischief in your eyes, and the same sadness too. I knew you were the same Cecil when your Carlos told me so much about you. But I wanted to see for myself that my prayer so long ago had truly been answered. I prayed all night in that cell, that you would be spared punishment, released without shame. And you vanished!" Giacomo laid a hand on Cecil's shoulder and squeezed. "Tell me how you escaped. I must know. Did you meet the angels? I begged them to watch over you. Oh how I bargained! Did they free you from those shackles and hold the bars apart for you to walk out?"

Cecil fussed over Giacomo, sat him down and ladled too much soup into his bowl, pushed the basket of bread rolls over to him with the butter and exhorted him to eat. Giacomo laughed.  
"My dear Cecil, I am not quite a starving waif. I have been provided for from the wild things that grow and the, um, tame things that are left unattended. I found barns with doors that pried open when I needed shelter. My lean frame is the result of years of following the path God has chosen for me, sustained by the bounty God provides."  
Nevertheless, Giacomo soon fell silent, emptied his bowl and spread thick butter on his fourth roll. As his belly filled, he became even more talkative.

"Carlos told me about you all, his precious family here, and I wanted to see for myself. I walked to the port of Luanda and got passage on a merchant clipper headed for Lisbon. The captain, a very devout man according to his words, would not sail without a chaplain so I exchanged my services for passage. Oh the seas were so rough that I was called upon often to be ready with prayers for salvation for the hopeful and last rites for the desperate. But we docked safely and the supersititous captain, grateful for what he saw as my protection, paid me enough for passage to Plymouth. Once there I found that my religion and my appearance did me no favours at all and I walked. Four days I think I went on foot from village to village, trusting in God to provide me with inattentive shopkeepers and unsecured outbuildings. I was so cold! And hungry, and footsore once my sandals gave way on the stony tracks that connect your villages. Always I kept in mind that I would find Carlos who loved complete strangers enough to risk his life to save them, despite being a heathen, and Cecil who loved so freely that I was strengthened in my faith. And Earl whom I had never met but, by Carlos's account, took in a feral boy in want of a father and taught him to be kind."

Giacomo reached for the soup ladle and stopped, looking at the attentive faces around him. Carlos smiled, Cecil wiped his eyes and Earl stood to help pour the last of the broth into Giacomo's bowl while Roger excused himself from the table _to go see the stones_.

After lunch, Earl cleared up ready to start planning dinner, Carlos hugged Giacomo again and retired to his laboratory, and Giacomo took Cecil's hands in his and suggested a walk around the manor gardens. Cecil agreed readily and led Giacomo out through the herb garden. They said nothing at first, awkward that their shared past was so very long ago. Giacomo broke silence by the budding roses, yet to burst.  
"Cecil, how did you get away from prison?"  
"I don't know. I fell asleep on that stone floor amongst the rodent shit and I woke up in the manor. Your prayer being answered by your god is as good an explanation as any. Whatever happens, however bad things seem to get, I find myself here and it's better. Usually." Cecil walked slowly, eyes facing ahead. "Why do you ask?"

Giacomo nods once. "Hm. I think my God answered my prayer again. One time long ago I prayed for you to be sent far away from me to safety, to your home. Another time I prayed that Carlos would return to contentment with a family who could love him without reserve. Last night I fell asleep amongst the stink and clucking of a poultry barn, praying with my last strength that I would not have travelled in vain, that I would live to see you and Carlos happy. And I woke up in your hay barn with your boy trying not to be afraid of my face."  
Cecil shrugged and took Giacomo's arm.  
"This place has always been strange but it is my home, I know that I am supposed to be here. I tell tales of times I have travelled but in truth I barely remember."  
Giacomo clutched at his chest. "My heart! You barely remember me?"  
Cecil laughed and Giacomo smiled, watching Cecil's face covertly. "It is good to hear you are happy."  
"Mmhm," Cecil walked faster again, watching his feet. "It would not do to be unhappy or ungrateful for my lot in life."  
"Sit with me, Cecil," Gicomo said quietly, "and tell me about yourself."

Earl peered around the laboratory door, wary in case Carlos might be engaged in something dangerous. He need not have been concerned, for Carlos sat at his bench toying with his battered and worn tintype of Cecil and Earl by the fireplace.  
"Penny for your thoughts?"  
Carlos looked up and forced a smile.  
"Oh my thoughts today are worth far less. At least, although my thoughts themselves are, I think, good thoughts made with the best intention, I have made no reliable observations and I have formed no conclusion from them."  
Earl walked into the room and sat on a stool opposite Carlos.  
"Tell me anyway. What are you thinking so hard about today?"  
"I think," Carlos said to the varnished metal under his fingertips, "that I want Cecil to be happy. Furthermore, I do not know how to make that happen. In addition, I think that maybe someone else might make Cecil happy... _happier_ at least."

"Oh!" Earl took Carlos's hands in his. "So, um, to be scientific for a moment, I deduce that perhaps you think this Giacomo person can make Cecil happy instead of you?"  
Carlos shrugged. "Perhaps. I would need to investigate further."  
"Carlos," Earl sighed the name. "Cecil can't be made to be happy. Best we can do is avoid making him unhappy. The rest is up to him. That's what old Pa used to tell me when we quarrelled and Ceece threw himself at someone else for comfort." Earl squeezed Carlos's fingers then let go. "What's Giacomo like?"  
Carlos smiled at that and looked up.  
"He's everything I am not. He's friendly and easy to talk to and he likes people, trusts them. He's principled and brave and–"  
"Whoa!" Earl giggled. "Bed him yourself did you?"  
Carlos's hands flew to his face to feel the heat building there.  
"I wouldn't! He has _vows_ and... ah there was a point where I was tempted to, um, you know, and I think he might have, um, but."  
"But?" Earl's grin made Carlos smile too.  
"I suspect we would both have been thinking about Cecil! We talked about him so much. Earl, if Ceece chooses Giacomo over me... what then? I mean for us all?"  
Earl frowned at that. "I honestly don't know. It has always been Cecil and _someone_ with me in the background until you showed up. Do you... do you think you and me would work without Cecil? I always thought his emotions were a force that swept me up and without his... enthusiasm, I'd be left behind."

There was no answer that Carlos wanted to give and Earl interpreted his silent gaze into the distance in his own way. Carlos's face softened and Earl turned to see what held his attention: Giacomo and Cecil lay on their backs on the grass beyond the herb garden. They watched in silence as the pair communicated, hands waving like fronds in a storm, turned toward each other and rolled into an embrace. They lay still for a few seconds then scrambled to their feet. Cecil came running back towards the house and Giacomo followed at a more sedate pace. Carlos heard and felt the thud of feet on the wooden floor and soon Cecil trotted in and flopped onto the sofa.

"I am pleased that you and Brother Giacomo have become such good friends again," Carlos smiled at Cecil, brittle and ready to shatter. "Is he also happy to rekindle your flame?"  
Cecil laughed and shook his head. "Hardly. We knew each other for a few days so long ago that neither of us can quite agree on exactly what we... oh. I see." Cecil walked over to Carlos, who sat with his arms around himself and his gaze directed toward the window, and leaned down to wrap him in a secure hug. "Whatever bright, hot flame there was once has long burned out. Not even a glowing ember left to help warm up the next morning's logs." Cecil aimed a smirk at Earl, who looked away, smiling. "We were gunpowder, not at all like the heat that warms our home. So we will be friends and I am happy with that arrangement."

Carlos and Earl made brief eye contact and sighed in relief. Cecil giggled.  
"Did you really think I would...? Carlos!" Cecil's hand flew to his face in mock indignation. "I might just be insulted by your lack of trust in me. Earl? Did you think I might run off with a travelling preacher too?" Earl shrugged and muttered something noncommittal. Cecil did his best to look injured. "Well, you two certainly deserve each other. By the way, have you, so to speak, _deserved_ each other since Carlos got back?"

Carlos's face warmed and Earl guffawed at Cecil's ability to turn any innocent phrase into innuendo with a raised eyebrow and a leer. He leaned into Cecil's embrace and smiled for real.  
"I missed this so much. I missed you, both of you. I wish... ugh there is no use in wishing."  
Earl shrugged, "My pa said that wishes were a waste of time but he still wished for ma to come back to us. Can't see the harm in it myself. Why not wish? If you wish for nothing you'll do nothing."  
"That," came Giacomo's voice from the doorway, "is exactly what I just told your Cecil! Oh he wishes for all manner of things." Giacomo wandered over and laid a hand on Cecil's arm, still clamped around Carlos's shoulder, "don't you? Why don't we all confess our deepest, darkest wishes to one another?" Giacomo walked over to the sofa and sat. "I will go first. I wish..." he closed his eyes and smiled, "that I could find a church that will accept me for who and what I am instead of crying _sinner!_ and casting me into the wilderness with a knell, the sound of a gospel snapped shut and the scent of candle chasing me. I wish that I could share my version of faith and my understanding of God's love with others without having it diluted and filtered..." Giacomo winked at Carlos, "oh yes, I remembered some science! and evaporated away to almost nothing before I am allowed to share what I feel with every ounce of my body to be true."

Giacomo was no longer smiling. He sat up, eyes wide open. "Please, I apologise for my ourburst. I had no intention of spoiling the mood. Someone may like to share a more lighthearted wish." He glanced at Earl, Cecil and Carlos with their surprised faces. "Please."  
"Easy," replied Earl. "I wish that Roger always has someone to care for him, that he grows up to be a kind man like his grandpa and that he never wants for love in his life. Ceece?"  
Cecil released Carlos's shoulder and instead stroked his hair.  
"I wish for Earl and Carlos to stay with me here always. And apple pie for dinner."  
Earl grinned. "Not for another month at least until the Bramley starts dropping in the breeze. Carlos?"  
Carlos frowned at the mahogany bench top. "I wish there was a way that the three of us could be together, secure in our commitment to one another, that we could all be recognised as Roger's fathers. I wish that we could be married."

A few seconds of silence were broken by Cecil's whoop.  
"I'd say yes, if you asked _properly_ , and if it was possible, and if Earl was agreeable. Earl?"  
Earl's eyebrows raised and wrinkled his pale, freckled forehead.  
"I, um, I have not given much thought to marriage at all! I had entertained the possibility of finding a wife one day, someone companionable, but could never quite make that future feel real." He bit his lower lip and looked out of the window. "I'd have to give it due consideration. If it were possible, which it is not, it would be good for Roger."  
"There you have it, Carlos!" said Giacomo, grinning at the flush-cheeked scientist, "one yes and a maybe. That's a better response than many get to a proposal!"  
Carlos laughed off his embarrassment at his revelation.  
"Well, at least we have our Brother Giacomo, if the law of this land refuses us then perhaps his God will show him a way! Earl, what's for dinner?"  
Earl turned amused eyes to Carlos and shrugged. "I don't know yet. I will have to decide what you deserve. Come down to the scullery in half an hour and maybe I will have something for you."

Cecil hooted with laughter, Carlos buried his face in his hands and Earl left the laboratory while Giacomo sat and smiled, slightly uncomfortable as the shared joke that he did not understand reminded him that he would always be an outsider.


	37. Rings and changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proposals!
> 
> Jewellery based on [ this gorgeous ring. ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/e3/98/30/e398305db8e0f38f626231cd1e0755cf.jpg)
> 
>  

Maureen asked Carlos to repeat his request.  
"Um, I would greatly appreciate your guidance on a purchase of a rather _personal_ nature."  
Carlos waited nervously for a reply. If his memory proved accurate, he had never before directly asked Maureen for anything. Maureen's face drew into a frown of annoyance.  
"Sir Carlos, is that entirely appropriate?"  
Carlos winced at the unexpected use of his formal title. "I do not see any harm in it! I only ask because I cannot very well invite Cecil or Earl on a trip to," here Carlos dropped his voice to a stage-whisper, _"the town_ to purchase _a set of matching rings_ and your hands are of a similar slimness to Cecil's so it may be possible to select something that will fit without the disappointment of requiring later adjustment."

Maureen's left hand failed to stifle her laugh and her right took firm hold of Carlos's sleeve. She pulled Carlos a short distance along the passage and into the sitting room she shared with Dana.  
"Dana? Dana!"  
Dana's head appeared around the connecting door to their bedroom."What's wrong, sweet– Oh! Carlos, um, come in, please take a seat."  
"Da-a-ana-a-a, Carlos has something to announce." She looked up at Carlos's uncomfortable expression. "Haven't you?"  
Carlos sighed and shook his head then sat down. He has better mitigate this disaster before gossip reached Cecil's ears... or Earl's!  
"I have asked Maureen to come into town with me. I want to purchase betrothal rings for Cecil and Earl."  
Dana frowned and looked from Maureen's grin to Carlos's concern. "That is a generous gift, but they may not marry any more than Maureen and I may. A formal marriage is a union between a man and a woman, they are both men and Cecil becoming _Cecilia the fortune teller_ for the occasion would not be tolerated. Do Cecil and Earl want so badly to marry?"  
Carlos shook his head and held up one hand as if to stem Dana's flow of words.  
"You misunderstand. I wish to purchase a set of _three_ rings and Brother Giacomo has opinions on the type of betrothal ceremony we might have."

It was settled a few days later that Roger would spend the day with Cecil and Earl getting the manor aired and the grounds tamed of their attempt at wild summer growth. Carlos declared that he would accompany Dana and Maureen into town _to choose new linens and that sort of thing._ Cecil nodded and requested that if Carlos saw any fabrics that he particularly liked, he was to bring back swatches rather than go ahead and order for everyone. Earl just shrugged and called Roger into the herb garden. Cecil joined them there once the carriage had carried away Carlos on his errands.  
"Earl? What do you suppose Carlos is _really_ up to in town? I have never known him to take any interest in linens."  
Earl stood up from where he had been weeding between the tender basil plants.  
"I couldn't say! Perhaps he has found domesticity to be as fascinating as the African plains. Roger!" Earl called to his boy, "careful with those shears!"  
Cecil sighed. "You don't think it's something to do with the telegram he got yesterday morning? He seemed excited after reading it and sent a runner with a message into town right away. He wouldn't tell me what it was about. Whenever I enquired he started talking about 'fascinating _this'_ and 'most interesting _that'_ until I lost interest and left him to it."  
Earl grinned at Cecil now Roger had laid the shears down and had embarked on an exploration of the rose aphids' life cycle, armed with soapy water and a delicate sponge.  
"Perhaps he has a surprise planned," Earl suggested.  
"Hmm. Yes," Cecil tapped his chin and Earl smiled at the sight of Cecil unconsciously mimicking Carlos's mannerisms. "Whatever it is, Giacomo's in on it and we are not. What do you think it might be?"  
"Ceece," Earl took Cecil's hands in his own, garden-rough and stained. "You won't get a different answer just by asking the same question a different way. I have not got the faintest idea of what Carlos is doing in town. And I am not aware of any telegram so it can't have been kitchen business."  
"No," Cecil sighed. "It was the name and address of a solicitor. Oh! You don't think he might be considering _selling up_ and moving back to–"  
"No!" Earl pulled up Cecil's panic before it sunk a tap-root. "He wouldn't. It's probably something to do with Roger's schooling or contracts for the tenant farmers. Or for Giacomo, since the cottage suits his needs so well, for the time being." Earl hit upon an idea. "Speaking of the rascal priest, if he knows perhaps he'll tell."  
Cecil grinned and set off down the trail that led to the old Harlan cottage. Earl cleaned his trowel, called at Roger to mind the thorns and set off after.

Giacomo was, as always, delighted to have company. He flattered and praised and invoked his god wherever he felt necessary but told Cecil nothing. Earl tired of Giacomo's obfuscation and, concerned about Cecil's temper, sent Cecil back to care for Roger and pretended to give Giacomo advice about the cottage vegetable plot. Once Cecil was safely out of earshot, Earl fixed Giacomo with a stare.  
"So what is Carlos planning? We do not keep secrets here."  
"What?" Giacomo feigned ignorance. "I have not the faintest–"  
"Liar!" Earl smiled at Giacomo. "Remember that I am the father of a six or seven year old child. He knows how to lie too and I can tell. Tell me or I will assume the worst."  
Giacomo sighed and sat. "And what is the worst that you can assume?"  
"Hm," Earl rubbed his chin then, embarrassed, lowered his hand. "That Carlos intends to sell the estate and therefore Cecil and I, with Roger, should seek a living elsewhere and depart as soon as we can arrange alternative employment."

That threat made Giacomo's smile drop.  
"Oh! No, no, do not I pray. It is... Oh God what do I do!" He looked heavenward. Earl supplied the reply.  
"Simply say what it is Carlos plans for us all."  
After another moment of silent contemplation of the sky, perhaps waiting in vain for another answer to his prayer, Giacomo sighed.  
"Very well. After long discussions of the nature and purpose of marriage as I believe God intended, not as the translators and censors wrote in our most sacred texts, Carlos asked if I would be willing to conduct a version of a marriage ceremony, should you and Cecil be agreeable. He has gone to purchase suitable tokens of your union, and to meet with a sympathetic man of law, a person recommended to him by a friend called Jaykan Drushell. He plans to make the estate the property of all of you and name Roger as his legal heir. It is," Giacomo enthused at Earl, "a most tremendous act of charity! I am heartened that even the most stubborn heathen can do the Lord's bidding although he will call it something else."  
In his delight at being able to break confidence and spread the good news, Giacomo failed to notice Earl's jaw tighten at the word _charity._ Earl gave the preacher a curt nod and walked away oblivious to his friendly wave.

Cecil was already back in the herb garden when Earl caught up, fully intending to share his indignation at being considered a suitable candidate for _charity_ but Cecil and Roger greeted him with such good humour that he put all thoughts of spoiling their afternoon to the back of his mind and laughed at their game, which turned out to be some kind of guessing-torture where Roger would select a herb and feed it to Cecil who, eyes covered, had to identify the flavour. Earl was just in time to prevent Cecil from having to chew on a bay leaf. Scolded, Roger laughed and ran for the kitchen garden where he had let the chickens loose to rid the growing potato crop of slugs and snails. Earl laughed too, hugged Cecil and returned to his scullery with a handful of parsley and some dill to flavour the evening's lamb casserole. Engrossed in stripping the bones of the previous evening's roast, he barely registered Carlos passing through the below stairs passageway and out into the gardens.

Carlos, always excitable despite his professed _scientific_ nature, seemed to Cecil to be in a particularly nervous mood. Cecil took Carlos's hand and led him out beyond the kitchen gardens to the orchard at the far side of the house. Carlos followed into the dappled shade of the trees until Cecil stopped and turned, smiling.  
"Aren't you mysterious today! First you insist on going to buy linens yourself then you return with a depth of nervous humour that suggests you made a purchase in some shade or pattern you think I will dislike. Did you bring back any swatches?" Cecil waited while Carlos's face worked.  
"What?" Carlos managed eventually. "No! No it is not that at all! I did make a small purchase, specifically _three_ small purchases. Um."

Under the big Bramley, with the June drop scattered on the grass waiting for this year's pair of piglets to be let out to eat the fruit the tree sacrificed in the name of better apples in October, a warm breeze whispering promises of a good summer and bringing the sweet scent from the hayloft above the stables, Carlos hugged Cecil tight, kissed his forehead and dropped to one knee. Mouth dropping open, Cecil's hands covered his face and he peeked out from between his fingers.  
"Carlos–"  
"Wait! Wait," Carlos took a calming breath. "I had all this worked out and now my words have gone. Oh well. Please, listen and if your answer is–"  
"Yes."  
"–one that may leave me with regret and disappointment, walk away and I will follow when I recover. Cecil–"  
"Yes."  
"–my love, how long has it been! I can't remember _that_ but I do remember the day you touched my scars and I could not _not_ speak out. I feared and hoped and so, it transpired, did you! You accepted me then for who I was. Cecil–"  
"Yes!"  
"My Cecil with the lovely voice, I am so much more sure now than I was then. I have found a way. Cecil will you accept me now? Will you–"  
"Carlos!" Cecil knelt to face Carlos and cupped his face with both hands. "Carlos, yes of course I will." Carlos fell silent and Cecil had to repeat himself. "Yes, yes of course! How could you doubt that! Um," Cecil looked away then back, chewing his lip. "You are asking if we can marry, hm?"

Carlos's hands flew. One to his face to cover his sudden squeak of nervous laughter and the other to his waistcoat pocket. He removed a pair of rings and held up the smaller of the two. Cecil offered his left hand and Carlos slipped the ring onto his third finger where it fit snug. Cecil caught his breath when he saw it. Five heart cut amethysts surrounded a tiny diamond like a rich violet flower, all set in gleaming gold. It was Cecil's turn to squeak with delight.  
"Carlos! It's beautiful! Please, put yours on too. I want to see it on your hand and know that it is there."  
But Carlos shook his head. "Not yet, I have it here," he patted his other pocket, "safe for when Earl agrees to wear this one." He held the second ring delicately between thumb and forefinger, allowing the sunlight to sparkle through the sapphires that took the place of Cecil's amethysts, then tucked it away.  
"So... you have not asked Earl yet?"  
"Um, no, he was busy and I had to see you."  
Cecil's face fell. He slipped the ring off his finger and into Carlos's pocket, reassuring him with a kiss and a sigh.  
"Well then. You had better ask him too, hadn't you?"

Carlos gave Cecil enough time to get back to the manor then followed. Cecil was nowhere in sight but Earl crouched in the scullery, peering into the oven with a serious expression. Carlos lurked in the doorway until Earl invited him inside.  
"Good day in town?" Earl asked, face neutral. Carlos nodded.  
"I suppose it was. Earl, can I ask you something?"  
Earl couldn't stop his habitual reply of _"You just have,"_ but he closed the range door, straightened up and turned to face Carlos.  
"Please, ask whatever you want."  
"Would, um, would you be agreeable to making our relationship more _formal?_ I would like for us all to be more, um, _secure_ in our future here together."  
Earl did his best to remain impassive. "Secure? In what way?"  
"I propose a legally binding partnership whereby you and Cecil and I each share the manor. A kind of, um, _marriage_ I suppose, it might be seen that way. Hm. If you chose to think of it like that."  
"Carlos, I am a Harlan."  
"Yes," Carlos agreed. "You are."  
"And the Harlans are not raised to accept anything they haven't earned."  
"I know! Your Pa especially was clear on that a number of times but this is–"  
"So you will understand my refusal."  
"Oh." Carlos fingered the sapphire cluster in his pocket while Earl returned his attention to the casserole. He took the rings out and laid them on the counter where Earl would see them when he stood. "The sapphire one is for you. Consider it as payment for your services. I know you have worked here for only bed and board when times were tough. If you see Cecil, please give him the other and tell him he may wear it or not as he pleases."

Carlos wandered back outside, past the gardens, around the stables and on to the big barn. He merely followed his feet without conscious thought about destination, veering off the path and up the hill where the lambs spent their early weeks in the relative shelter of lower ground. Today their bleats sailed down to find him from the upper pasture, moorland really, and the lower pasture showed signs of lush recovery from the close cropping of the livestock. The stones were silent and still for Carlos and he smiled at memories of Roger's tall tales. Earl had been _taken_ according to Maureen, although Roger claimed they were both willing guests of the... of whatever unscientific beings Roger had conjured in his mind to explain his father feeling the need to take some time away after the death of Old Pa Harlan, although Gicomo had opined that Roger's story was no less fanciful than many accepted tales from the gospels.

Carlos sensed movement in his peripheral vision and whirled to face whatever demon shadowed him. He puffed out a name as a long breath.  
"Giacomo! You startled me."  
"Please, I apologise. I saw you from the cottage and followed. Did you find what you wanted?"  
"Indeed! The solicitor recommended by Jake and Rochelle was most helpful and the jeweller was delighted to help me choose although I did not confide the purpose of my purchases."  
"But."  
"But?" Echoed Carlos.  
"You are not sweeping me up in your joy at your impending betrothal ceremony. Have you changed your mind?"  
"No! Not at all. But I think Cecil may have changed his, and Earl was as cold to me as these stones at daybreak."  
"Ah? Carlos, come and talk to me. I suspect either that you are wrong or you have been foolish."

Carlos followed Giacomo inside the little cottage. It felt almost as comfortable as it had when Old Pa lived there and not at all like the cold, empty shell that had caused Maureen to settle for shared rooms with Dana in the manor. Giacomo made tea and Carlos described what had happened in the orchard then in the scullery. Giacomo sipped and smiled.  
"So your proposal to Cecil was accepted? Yes?"  
"Yes," Carlos frowned, "with enthusiasm, at first."  
"But not refused either, eh?"  
"No, I did not get the sense that Cecil meant for me to think... Oh I have no idea what he thinks."  
Giacomo laughed. "Now that is as good a place to begin as any. You had some expectation of how Cecil would react, you made some assumption of his behaviour? And the same with Earl?"  
Carlos put his cup on the rough kitchen table and buried his face in his hands.  
"I know, I know–"  
"A good scientist never assumes anything! You told me that so, so often! Carlos, as a scientist, how should you approach this problem?"  
"Ugh, hmm, I should state the problem. I do not really _know_ how Cecil and Earl each feel about my offer."  
"And?" Giacomo waited. Carlos delivered a deep sigh.  
"I should gather data. I should ask each of them."  
"A-a-and?" Giacomo observed Carlos's confused expression and inclined his head slightly. Scientists, he had concluded, were not as firmly trained in the intricacies of human relationships as they could be. "How will you secure a union with _both_ if you treat them separately?"  
"Oh!" Carlos sat back. "I had not thought of that."

Meanwhile at the manor, Cecil and Earl sat facing one another across the servants' dining table, the pair of rings between them. Cecil reached across and Earl's hands met his, clasping gently.  
"So Carlos proposed to you," stated Earl, frowning.  
"Yes!" Cecil found his usual habit of talking with his hands hindered by Earl's grip. "In the orchard. It was beautiful!"  
"And you said no?" Earl's frown deepened. "I'm surprised. I thought you wanted to marry Carlos, if there was that possibility."  
"No, I said yes. Several times before he actually noticed, and I do want this very badly."  
"So you said yes, then you changed your mind and said no, and now you want to say yes again? Ceece, honey–"  
"It wasn't like that at all!" Cecil snatched his hands back and gesticulated. "I said yes, then he showed me your ring and I realised he had not asked you. So how could I agree to something that was not my sole decision? What if I said yes and you said no? What if you wanted to marry Carlos so that Roger would have the promise of both of you in his life but what if that meant you got me as part of the bargain but didn't want–"  
"Ceece!" Earl darted around the table to hold Cecil and kiss him. "Of course I want you. But I won't accept Carlos's charity."

Cecil froze for a moment then pushed Earl back, both hands on Earl's shoulders.  
"What?"  
Earl sighed and met Cecil's confused stare with practised calm. "I was brought up not to accept anything I hadn't rightfully earned. After all, I am a–"  
"EARL! I swear," Cecil's confusion morphed into fury while Earl watched. "If you are about to TELL ME THAT YOU ARE A _FUCKING HARLAN_ I WILL... I will... Oh fuck, Earl, you really did, didn't you?" Cecil went white-knuckle quiet. "You thought Carlos was offering you a third share in the manor out of pity."  
"Of course!" Earl knelt on the floor, hands on Cecil's knees. "Why else would he do it? He's head over heels for you and I'm part of the package. So he invited me into a _partnership_ because I'm still your man and I'm Roger's Pa."  
"You are a fucking idiot, Earl. You let pride turn you away from Carlos. Of course he loves you! You think he's the kind of person who could be _physical_ without that connection? He certainly resisted _my_ subtle charms for long enough to get to know me first. He waited a year, Earl, a _year_ of my shameless flirting before making the slightest move in my direction. He smiles when he sees you. He calls me over to the window to watch and laugh with him when you and Roger are clowning around in the garden. He tells me how much he thinks of you and he misses you when it's just us."  
Earl sank his head onto his hands, still on Cecil's knees. Very softly, Earl spoke.  
"Oh _fucking hell."_  
Cecil stroked Earl's head then pushed him off. Earl sat on the floor while Cecil scooped up the rings and marched out.

Carlos spotted a familiar figure on the narrow path and his heart lurched. They met outside the barn. Carlos stared into its depths, the interior striped by the late afternoon sun.  
"Good to see you, Cecil."  
Cecil looked inside the barn too and smiled.  
"You and Earl wrestled in there. As I remember, you both won something."  
Carlos felt his face heat up and he couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips.  
"I remember being quite upset with you that night."  
"Can you find it in your heart," Cecil stepped up so close to Carlos they almost touched, "to forgive me?"  
Carlos crumpled and wept, huge noisy sobs as he clung to Cecil. Cecil held him, took Carlos's pocket handkerchief from his pocket and dried his face, waited with him while he drew in unsteady, hiccupping gulps, and smiled.  
"Better?" Carlos nodded. "All is not lost, my love. Carlos, I got my romantic proposal and I love you for that. What about Earl?"  
"I thought that Earl would not appreciate such a gesture," replied Carlos still dabbing at his eyes, "because he is always so... so _solid_ in his mood. I thought he would think me absurd."  
"You may be right in part at least. He would not notice such a perfect location or appreciate you being on your knees, altho-o-ough..." Cecil smirked and that lifted Carlos's face into a flash of a grin, "but does he know you love him?"  
Carlos frowned. "Surely he does! He must!"  
"Why?" asked Cecil, "I know because you call me sweetheart and love and tell me you find me beautiful. You touch my arm or my shoulder when we pass and you spoil me with small gifts. How does Earl know? Is it _only_ because I tell him so?"

Carlos considered his answer. He had thought the occasional times they spent together without Cecil to be demonstration enough of his feelings but applied to another, Cecil perhaps, such reluctance to speak of love seemed mean-hearted, cruel even. He thought of Earl's smile and wave when he noticed Carlos watching from the window, of the way Earl always brought Carlos's tray himself when Carlos worked late and forgot about eating. He remembered the times he had woken up with Earl laying him on his sofa and covering him with a blanket, kissing the red marks where his lab notebook had imprinted his cheek, and he flushed with shame.

They walked slowly back to the manor, hand in hand and silent, listening to the birdsong and the sounds of a busy estate. Once indoors, Cecil led Carlos to the scullery where Earl stirred herbs into a rich-smelling stew. Cecil casually slipped the rings back into Carlos's hand and gave him a nudge of encouragement. Carlos cleared his throat.  
"Earl, I did not make my meaning clear today. I would like you to marry me..."  
_"...and Cecil!"_  
"And Cecil, because I love you both very much and I want us to spend a lifetime together. If owning one third of the manor makes you uneasy then I will put it in trust for Roger. I apologise for not understanding, and for never telling you how deeply..."  
_"...say you love him again"_  
_"hush Cecil lemme do this my way"_  
"...how deeply I hold you in my affection. Earl, my love, will you agree?"  
Earl grinned and nodded, and Carlos grasped his hand, kissed the knuckles and slipped the sapphire ring onto his finger. Carlos turned to Cecil.  
"Ceece–"  
"Oh no! Just... I said yes already and it was perfect." Cecil held out his hand and the amethyst ring was his again. Carlos brought out the third ring, matching the others in design but with rich green emerald. Earl picked it up and looked at Cecil.  
"Ceece, honey?"  
"You do the honours, Earl-honey."  
Earl took Carlos's hand and, with a little effort, pushed the last ring into place.

A delighted crow of a laugh came from the scullery door as Giacomo could hold it in no longer.  
"I thought I could conduct your ceremony at the stones? It is midsummer in a day or two."


	38. Epilogue

Erika and Erika agreed, it had been a beautiful day for a wedding. The strange missionary spoke of love and commitment, but Erika mostly remembered his healthy disrespect for the idea of a betrothal being anybody else's business other than the betrothed themselves. Erika described Carlos in his new suit, Cecil resplendant in peacock, Earl as unconsciously handsome as a Harlan could be in something borrowed. Roger capered around the stones, drawing a tut from Maureen, which he ignored. Josie, looking old now, said that everyone was beautiful from a lifetime of doing beautiful things, and Erika hugged her carefully lest she shatter.

On their way back to the manor, Erika took Erika's hand.  
"What will we tell them?"  
"Oh, you know, the usual. Nothing they do not need to know."  
"I am surprised at Earl," Erika opined, "he of all people shold know about the power of the stones at the summer solstice. Unless–"  
"Erika! You take that back. I am sure Earl would not _deliberately..."_

But the vision and the thought hung in the air heady as the scent of roses. The stones were warmed by the sun and familiar to everyone present. Young Roger talked to them, said he was waking them up, waved and laughed at Erika, promised Josie would be happy too. Erika nodded back in understanding, then stepped backwards outside the perimeter of the circle. They were all Harlans now, Cecil and Carlos and Roger and Earl, and Josie and Dana and even Maureen and Giacomo were somehow accepted into the Harlan clan. Erika smiled at Erika.  
"It was such a lovely ceremony."

Erika tended to the scullery while Erika called on their helpmates to come to the manor, they would be needed one more time at least. Within the hour, the manor house was spick and span with clean linens on all the beds and food in the pantry. 

"Hey! Hey there? Anybody home?"  
It was a woman's voice in the hallway. Erika grinned at Erika and trotted upstairs, appearing quiet as a ghost from the hidden door under the staircase.  
"Excuse me, ma'am, I was below and didn't hear you knock. Welcome home to the manor. Let me take your things and Erika will help you to your room." There was a _thunk_ and a curse from the room that was no longer a laboratory, waiting blank for the new mistress to decide its purpose. Erika suppressed a laugh. "I believe your new ladies maid has arrived. I will bring her to you directly."

Below stairs after a dinner that lulled the senses into torpor, Erika nudged Erika and Erika and they smiled, fading a little and resolidifying, tired from recent lack of practice at holding their forms. The new housekeeper and the groundskeeper stared in exhausted confusion while upstairs the Mistress and her maid dozed together in the games room after sherry and billiards.  
"You both turn in for the night," suggested Erika, kindly, "we will clean up. I am sure that after a good night's rest you will forget your troubles and settle in to your new home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it... is it finished? Can I stop? Phew, this has been fun!


End file.
